


Power of Us

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Married Life, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:44:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: From the moment they met at magic school, over two decades ago, Oliver and Felicity were theses beings always drawn to each other like magnets. However, time and forces beyond their control, had drastically changed the state of their relationship. Their journey starts over when Oliver discovers he and Felicity are stronger together in more ways than one. They continue to demonstrate how the Queens are excellent at kicking demon ass.





	1. Heart and Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended this story to be a crossover with _Charmed_ \- the WB show about three bad ass powerful sisters, who also kick demon ass, but it didn't quite pan out that way. So this piece in particular in set in the world of _Charmed_. It's also this melding of magic and the DC Universe. Thanks to all the lovely artists who helped me with my story by submitting and creating beautiful covers and photo edits.

( _Top to Bottom:Thanks for the beautiful cover art from hackergoddessfelicity and laurabelle2930._ )  
  
Felicity’s hand jostled along with her nerves. Biting her dark red lip, she tucked a raven strand behind her ear. It got caught on her cartilage piercing, but that certainly didn’t deter her. She knew what she had to do - kill Oliver Queen, or as so she let her bubbe think Nowadays he was better known in around these parts Al Sah-him. Oliver, bred of a prestigious family of warlocks and witches had always seemed rather misguided, especially when R’as al Ghul - otherwise known as The Source of All Evil had taken him under his wing to be the rightful heir to his throne in Hell. To be honest, the underworld felt a lot different than she expected. Her black combat boots clomped against the natural stone ground as entered through a gate with trepidation. Torches lit her path. Her hand trembled again, yet she wouldn’t dare drop what was once her bubbe Agatha’s weapon. This dagger had seen many an enemy in the past sixty years, though none more powerful than Al Sah-him. Her fingertips tightened firmly around the handle of the blade, feeling her family crest an S engraved in Torah Sofer font against her skin.  
  
“ _Esh_ (aysh/fire)” Felicity cast, solely the blade lit with a powerful cobalt flame.  
  
She stood behind a figure shrouded in black, who didn’t even bother turning around to face her. A creak of his boot followed as she approached him drawn her target with skills of a hunter who was stalking its prey. Their eyes met. His stoic cold azure eyes met with her equally striking blue gaze. Her eyes were filled with determination, purpose, and anger, whereas his were laden with regret, remorse, and torment. However, they both stood their ground.  
  
Oliver questioned, “You really think you can kill me?”  
  
“Take a wild guess,” She retorted, stepping nearer until they were only inches apart from one another.  
  
He grit, challenging as he yanked his assailant closer, “Do it!”  
  
The flaming blade burned through a patch in his leather clad armor. Much to Felicity’s surprise, Oliver flinched as if the hot burning metal against his skin was nothing. Perhaps to a man like him, it was truly just that. As Felicity grew into her formative years, her bubbe had revealed the history of their wiccan lineage spanning far beyond the time of the Salem Witch Trials. It was then her bubbe Aggie revealed what a wretched sorcerer Ra’s al Ghul had been. The bastard had alive for centuries, but he was growing older and weaker. No feeble incantation, charm, or his even his precious Lazarus Pit could protect him any longer from the clutches of the Grim Reaper. Hence, the reason behind appointing a trusted successor. When they were finally face to face, she didn’t see the expression resembling that of a cold blooded murder. She saw the boy with a pure heart, who had been paying for his sins. She saw the face of a tortured man, who resembled the innocent soul, who once saved her when they were children.

* * *

_**Twenty-one Years Ago**_  
  
The schoolyard was filled with children, playing as things were normal. They would jump rope, climb the ladder for a slide that appeared as if a primary color wheel threw up on it, and cacophonies of laughter brightened this already beautiful day. A little ways off into a distance, a little brunette in pigtails and glasses sat alone under a shady elm tree. She diligently perused her spell book. At age six, she was three years above her grade level. Despite, Donna’s concerns, Felicity really wanted to enter the fourth grade, wanting to get out of school as fast as possible. Sometimes it seemed as if the professors at magic school had nothing left to teach her. Felicity was frequently bullied and taunted by the older kids at school for being the baby of the group, being the short one, being the most intelligent student in her class, or simply just by the fact that she wore glasses. She wanted to memorize every spell in her workbook, and was already well on her way. Thumbing through the pages of her spell book, she felt something small and wet being flung into her hair.  
  
Plucking a spitball that stuck in her center part, her face scrunched, “Gross! I’m telling your dad, Tommy Meryln.”  
  
“Ooh, I’m so scared.” The ten-year-old teased, sticking his tongue at Felicity, “What’cha gonna do about it, glasses?”  
  
“Dude, enough.” His friend counseled, reminding, “She’s just a little kid.”  
  
Tommy laughed, continuing his torment, “Yeah, a shrimpy one.”  
  
Felicity’s hand balled into a fist, but she remembered something her bubble had told her before, ‘Sometimes, it’s best to simply walk away, my dear.” Angrily, she stormed off to another part of the playground, keeping her nose in her spell book.  
  
“Why are boys so stupid?” She growled, walking along the beat and path.  
  
Palming his face, Oliver noted, “Bro, that wasn’t cool.”  
  
“Stop being such a goodie goodie, Ollie.”  
  
Trying a different tactic, his friend recalled, “Your mother wouldn’t like that.”  
  
“My mother is dead, and dear ol’ dad is this short of sending me off to that boarding school in London.”  
  
Rebecca Merlyn died at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul, attempting to protect her beloved son from his wrath. To say, Tommy was acting out was quite the gross understatement. He cast several spells, most of which were banned in the halls of Halliwell Academy. There was the one that caused food in the cafeteria to erupt like a continuous chain of active volcanoes. Professor Matthews were much rather forget the time Mr. Merlyn thought it’d be funny to turn her ever-changing hair color into live snakes, and Professor Wyatt was none too happy when Tommy moved thumb tacks with his mind to the teacher’s comfy leather desk chair.  
  
Offering his best bud a shoulder squeeze in consolation, Oliver suggested, “Maybe, you should go apologize.”  
  
His tone was adamant, levitating his toy racecars in the air, “No, thanks.”  
  
“Ugh.” He groaned, muttering to himself, “The things I have to do for you, Merlyn.”  
  
Tommy’s grin was toothy, mentioning, “You’re a real pal, Queen.”  
  
Oliver chased after the little girl, although she didn’t pay him any mind. That was until he tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
“Hey, hey.” He alerted, trailing right behind her, “Wait up.”  
  
Her sneakers squeaked against the concrete, not looking up from her spell book, “Why should I? Oh, are you gonna throw something at me too?”  
  
“No, of course not. See? I have a new baby sister at home. Her name is Thea, and I would hate for someone to treat her the way Tommy treated you back there.”  
  
Turning around, Felicity walked backwards as she pointed out, “And yet you didn’t do anything to stop him.”  
  
“You’re right.” He admitted, sheepishly looking down at his dress shoes, “I should have, and I’m sorry. But Tommy’s been going through a rough time with… Well, everything lately.”  
  
The duo strolled along until it seemed as if the reached the front of the school. From Felicity’s perspective, Merlyn’s friend was much nicer than he could ever be.  
  
Accepting his apology, Felicity changed the subject, “So how old’s your little sister?”  
  
A proud grin crossed his mouth, “She just turned one in January. She knows how to say my name now. For a rugrat, I guess she’s okay.”  
  
“Well, that…” A terrified scream interrupted the six year old mid-sentence, as she tripped over a tree root, only to be sent falling toward the ditch, where gardeners were digging it out of the ground, “Ah!”  
  
“Woah!” Panic jolted his heart, yet the older boy assured, “I gotcha. I gotcha.”  
  
Thinking quickly, he called forth, “Felicity.”  
  
Suddenly, a flash of sky blue light orbed her straight into his arms.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open, Felicity gasped, “You saved me.”  
  
“Eh, it was nothing.” He brushed off.  
  
“And you know my name? I thought-I thought everyone sees me as if I was invisible or something.”  
  
He laughed, arms tremoring from the latter half of seventy-five pounds in his arms, “Well, you are the smartest kid in school.That kind of makes you hard to forget.”  
  
As her feet remained dangling from the ground, Felicity instructed, “Dude, you know you can put me down now.”  
  
“Right. Right. Sorry.” Oliver apologized, setting the little girl down on the verdant freshly trimmed grass, “You good?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“Okay.” He obliged, picking her book, “Oops! Wouldn’t wanna lose this.”  
  
“No way, and thank you for saving me. Gosh, this is so embarrassing, but what’s your name again?”  
  
She only had seen him around school with Tommy.  
  
His eyebrows lifted in surprise, “You don’t know my name?”  
  
“Sorry.” Felicity confirmed meekly with a head shade, her rosy cheeks growing a shade pinker.  
  
A thankful grin split his face, cheering, “This is great.”  
  
“Um, what?” Color her perplexed because she just wanted to thank the kid.  
  
Extending his hand out, he informed, “Oliver.”  
  
“Oliver..?”  
  
“Just Oliver.”  
  
She giggled, shaking his hand, “Well, just Oliver. Thanks again for you know, kinda saving my life back there. As you know, I’m Felicity, Felicity Smoak.”  
  
“You never, ever have to thank me, Felicity. It’s just part of being a good warlock/whitelighter. I hope to be a great one soon.”  
  
Smacking his chest in delight, she reiterated, “You’re half whitelighter?!”  
  
Oliver nodded, rubbing his chest briefly, “Ow! And on my mom’s side.”  
  
“Cool.” Felicity believed, drawing out the word.  
  
At the sound of a bell tone, her new friend bid, “Well, we should get going. Professor Wyatt will kill me if I’m late again for his transmutation class. I’m glad you’re alright, Felicity. Maybe I’ll see you around school. Bye.”  
  
“Bye,” The brunette waved cutely, sighing as she adjusted her lopsided spectacles.  
  
At only six years old, Felicity didn’t exactly know what she was feeling in that very moment. Boys were icky, and they were also a distraction from her studies. Plus they were stupid and mean. But that Oliver kid sure was something else. He made her tummy feel as butterflies would fly straight out of it, and she didn’t like it one bit. It felt weird and gross and she wanted it to stop. Felicity, being the little genius, that she was even proceeded to check her heart rate. It was elevated slightly. She dared to mention to her mother when Donna was picking up from school that she might need to go to the hospital, despite being deathly scared of needles or really any pointy objects.  
  
 Upon seeing the heart doodles drawn with Oliver’s name in all capital letters, Donna squealed, telling her daughter, “Baby girl, it’s nothing to worry about.”  
  
“Mom, I know I don’t say this a lot, but I don’t get it. I don’t feel sick, but my tummy feels weird and fluttery.”  
  
“I understand.” Donna acknowledged, applying a shade of fire engine red lipstick in the overhead visor mirror, “Sweetie, it sounds like someone has her very first crush on this nice Oliver boy.”  
  
“Yuck!” Felicity protested, denying, “No way. Tell me I’m too young for that.”  
  
“Can’t do that, kiddo.” Her mother reminded, “It’s just a part of life, and sometimes things happen that are out of our control.”  
  
She gulped nervously, “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”  
  
Donna’s palm swept over her daughter’s dark locks before the Smoak girls drove home for the afternoon. Days later, did she find out that ‘just Oliver’ was actually the Oliver Queen, son of one of the most powerful witches, warlocks, and whitelighter in the magical world. Felicity’s crush developed into love by the time high school rolled around. Unfortunately, Oliver was in the arms of another witch, Samantha. They managed to stay friends until they both decided to take on their respective family businesses of fighting demons and protecting innocent mortals. However, they each had their own vastly different way of doing just that - one more humane than the other. After his parents both passed away after an attack from a crone. The bitch drowned them both with one measly inch of water, flooding their lungs. Following his break up with Samantha, Oliver seeked solace, traveling to far off lands. He settled in a place called Nanda Parbat, only to be groomed by all that is evil, Ra’s al Ghul.

* * *

_**Present Day**_  
  
Eyes flitting down to the dagger, Felicity warranted, “ _Haf-Sa-Kat Esh_ (ceasefire).”  
  
The magic flame soon fizzled out with not even so much as a trace of smoke.  
  
Oliver roared again, “Do it, Felicity!”  
  
“No.” She refused, emotion suddenly choking her as tears glistened in her eyes, “This was a all part of your plan, wasn’t it, Oliver? You want to die.”  
  
His voice dropped to an eerily demanding whisper, “Kill me, Felicity.”  
  
“I won’t. Don’t you get that? This,” His former friend started, gesturing down to the dagger in her hand, “This was a test. If there was any shred of good left inside of you, Oliver. You wouldn’t want to sacrifice your life over others. I know the man you are, and that’s the man that I believe, that’s the man I know has a good heart, and that’s the man that I believe in - no matter what. I trust you, and I know you’re still in there somewhere.”  
  
Thanks to a magic protective tattoo from an old friend John Constantine, his burn-slash-knife wound finally healed in a shimmer of soothing golden light. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken so long, yet the dark cloud looming over him that was Al Sah-him slowly began to lift. He remembered something his mother had mentioned before powers don’t make them special, It was more so the intent behind them that make their powers a gift. A little cheesy -albeit as a whitelighter, Moira and Oliver were part angel. Love, pure love was his healing trigger, although he wasn’t quite aware of that feeling yet. He was loved once, but after all the things he did- the people he had killed per Ra’s al Ghul’s orders, Oliver still hadn’t felt worthy of that love.  
  
R’as al Ghul’s mission was simple. In order for Al Sah-him to prove his loyalty to the demon’s head, he forced the young warlock’s hand. His only living family member’s life was threatened, and while Thea was sprite and strong, his baby sister certainly wasn’t any match for the source of all evil. It was his life, his choice, and he would do anything, absolutely anything to protect Thea, who next to his mother had the purest heart out of all the Queens. Oliver was fed a lie that his kills were deemed to be a clean up of the underworld of sorts, ridding literal Hell of threats and weakness. When Oliver eventually grew tired of the pain he had caused, claiming he would find another way for his little sister to remain safe, Ra’s’ League of Assassins brainwashed him with ancient spells. For five months, Oliver now better known as Al Sah-him took the lives of many reformed demons. Flashes of good hearted souls he’s murdered were seething in his memory. One by one they plagued him, and even after he was able to break Ra’s’ control, there was only one option left in his mind.  
  
“I don’t remember names or who they were really.” Oliver recalled, sitting on his haunches against the cavernous wall. “I don’t know if they had a family, but what I do remember is faces. The pain, the anguish in their eyes, the desperation, I will never forget that. It haunts me every goddamned day I’m under his thumb, Felicity. If death is penance by the Elders than let it be, I deserve worse.”  
  
“You deserve to be living your life out there happy. You deserve to find who Oliver Queen truly is, and you deserve a life far better than purgatory.”  
  
He sniffed, his tone heavy with guilt, “How can you be so sure?”  
  
“Because you want to be a great warlock/whitelghter one day soon. The only way we can get to accomplish that goal is if we get out of here now.” Felicity instructed hastily, pulling the sullen man off the ground with a grunt.  
  
“I already tried countless spells to escape.”  
  
Felicity remarked, “Maybe you need a little extra power.”  
  
As mortals said, two heads are better than one. In this case, a witch and a warlock working together proved to share the same sentiment. They joined hands in the center of the chamber.

Simultaneously, they spoke the incantation - an original escape route.  
  
_“We call upon the power of those before us._  
_Moira, Donna, Agatha, Clarissa_  
_Hear us now._  
_Hear or plea_  
_In hopes you send us back to thee.”_  
  
Honestly, the cheery disposition of their friend Kara was proven right. They were stronger together, and they always will be. After painstaking efforts, Oliver was finally able to orb himself and Felicity out of the goddamned underworld. Despite some understandable distrust from her bubbe, Agatha grew to like Oliver, which definitely worked in his favor. Oliver and Felicity rekindled their friendship that was wasting away after five long months of betrayal. Friendship quickly transformed into romance. Romance grew in a mutual discovery of love and lust.

* * *

_**Three Years Later** _

Love reached its final stage of forever with the utterance of a single nerve-wracking question.  
  
Kneeling in their living room at Queen Manor, Oliver asked, “Felicity Megan Smoak, will you make me the happiest man on the face of the Earth.”  
  
She nodded silently, grinning from ear-to-ear.  
  
“Yes?” He guessed, dimples pooling in his cheeks.  
  
Felicity confirmed, matching his smile as she spoke aloud, “Yes.”  
  
Oliver delicately slipped a ring on his new fiance’s finger - a piece of jewelry that once belonged to his mother. It was a three karat Princess cut diamond ring set in platinum that had been passed down in the Queen family for decades/  
  
Oliver uttered with a whisper and a playful head shake, “I love you.”  
  
“I love you,” Felicity replied in a hushed tone, pecking his lips. Their kiss developed in a display of affection with more heat and fervor.  
  
Felicity took the lead as she usually did. With an ardent shove, and her leg hooked to his, Oliver willingly landed flat on his back. As a means to celebrate their newfound engagement, they made slow, passionate love right on the couch by a crackling fire. As soon as they spooned nakedly, draped in merely an emerald green afghan that barely covered all their bits and pieces, the fire cooled down to a low flame.  
  
Just about six months later, they were married by Agatha Smoak in a small, private ceremony amongst family and friends.

* * *

  
_**Two Years After The Wedding**_  
  
Ra’s al Ghul was well aware of Al Sah-him’s double cross. In his weakened state, he couldn’t get the revenge he so desperately desired. Half a decade had gone since his right-hand man’s bid for freedom, yet still he lay dormant. He wanted to make the man now once again now as Oliver Queen suffer a fate worse than death. The Queens had become a kick ass demon-fighting duo. Oliver orbs them down to a familiar chamber in Hell. Felicity spots the classic shimmer of a lower-level Tracer demon, readying to attack her husband. With a succinct wave of her hands in a chopping box-like motion, Felicity takes initiative by blowing up the Tracer into nothing, but demonic dust.  
Eyeing his wife. he enunciated every single syllable of her name. “Felicity…”  
  
“What?” She asked incredulously, shooting him a poignant look, “He was going to attack you.”  
  
Oliver’s ears perked spotting a seriously beefed up Aka Manto. Ugh, didn’t he have to lurk at a school restroom or public toilet? These blue faced demons were known for scaring petulant children straight- not serving as a lackey to Tracers. The creature moaned, towering over Felicity.  
  
He summoned, “Dagger!”  
  
In a flash of blue light, Oliver now possessed the weapon right in his calloused hand. He rapidly throws the sharp object, and the Aka Manto burst into deadly flames.  
  
“Hey!” Felicity sniped, snatching the blade from her husband’s grip, “Honey, we talked about this. No orbing my bubbe’s weapon. It’s mine, and only I get to wield it.”  
  
“Fine,” Her husband grumbled, using Felicity’s own words against her, "But he was going to attack you.”  
  
These lower levels were coming out like maggots in the woodwork. Sometimes, an entity on the good side didn’t need powers to win the war. No, they simply needed some training and good fight skills. Oliver took on new creatures four against two, guarding each other back to back. All it took were a few good right hooks, jabs, powerful kicks and each one went down for the count. Until another idiot tracer came rushing in like a bat out of (well, in the place they were) Hell. With another wave of her hands, Felicity blew up the demons in a painful fiery demise.  
  
“Felicity, Honey, we could’ve used the second one for leverage.”  
  
Those words were on the tip of Oliver’s tongue. However, he doesn’t dare speak them, knowing it would soon result in a loud lecture about sticking to the plan. It was simple. Take down any evil threat idiotic enough to stand in their way, and find out why they were killing Sandmen. Plural meaning there was more than one legend. There was an entire faction of sandmen dutifully spreading both dreams and nightmares when most people sleep. They did not differentiate between sinners or saints. No, they were merely messengers, allowing mortals and magic beings alike to sleep. Whatever thought they had - good or bad- usually meant any being had an opportunity to work through their problems as they drifted off to dreamland.  
  
Upon her husband’s own incredulous look, Felicity reasoned, “What? Ezra was standing in our spot, where we met again.”  
  
“Um...Hon.” Oliver directed, guiding his wife by her leather jacket a few feet over, “We actually met again over there by that gate.”

She shrugged, the pale apples of her cheeks flushing slightly, “Oops.”  
  
“Mmhm,” He hummed, fighting the urge to laugh because they had a stash to retrieve and sandmen to protect.  
  
Sprinting down a long, narrow hallway, the couple did just that. They retreat back to their bedroom by nightfall.  
  
“Well that was a good night,” His wife believed, glancing at the clock on her nightstand, which was now reading 3:00A.M. “Good morning’s work.”  
  
Her sentiment fell on deaf ears as Oliver was already out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
  
Felicity swore, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, “Love you.”  
  
“Love you more,” Her husband argued groggily on the precipice of sleep.  
  
No matter the job - big or small. Oliver and Felicity worked best together along with their familiar, Dig, who was sleeping as a black cat at the foot of their bed. He was their guide, Yoda, and then some. However, for what the underworld and Ra’s had in store for Queens, and him, he’d better hope cats have more than nine lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


	2. Past, Present, and Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted tomorrow since there's no new _Arrow_ this week.

( _Thanks for the fan art for this chapter, candykizzes24_ )  
  
Oliver’s heart beat against his pec. In the past three months, he’d tried every single exit available. This was his only chance. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, propelling him forward. Faster, he ran through the literal gates of Hell. Unfortunately, his feet only carried him to a nearby bedroom chamber. All candlelit, and in the center laid a large bed with red satin sheet. Oliver needed a moment’s respite, splashing himself with a canteen of liquid, which was the devil knows what. There in his reflection stood a man with a lethal gaze. The dark armor suited the man known only as Al Sah-him.  
  
His mind drifted off to a former friend, who gave him some good advice. It was almost as if Oliver could hear John Constantine now, “This isn’t you, mate. Think of your family.”  
  
“You are not done fighting.” His thoughts traveled deeper into a memory of a girl Oliver once knew before R’as weighed him down like stone. Her name was Felicity, and though nothing ever become of their relationship, she was a damn good friend.  
  
Yet his heart and mind were still pure, ensconcing his being with hope. He had to escape for Thea  He missed her so much. Closing his eyes, Oliver attempted to orb out of Hell again. However, it just wasn’t working. His body grew weary, considering Oliver was carrying a quiver, twenty-four arrows for ammo, and a grappling hook on his back. He didn’t even have a regular plan. No, Oliver’s sole purpose was simply evade R’as’ prison for his baby sister. Panting, Oliver nocked his arrow and aimed his bow. Suddenly, a shimmer of light appeared before him, although this being was the antithesis of hope. R’as was the devil himself if the fire brimming in his eyes was any indication.  
  
“No!” Oliver shouted, voice seething with anger and loss.  
  
R’as warned, laughing diabolically, “Al Sah-him, my dear boy, you know what will occur if you were to violate the bylaws of our agreement.”  
  
With a wave of his hand, a translucent image of Thea materialized in Ra’s’ palm. Fire ascended quickly underneath her, claiming he would burn the little witch alive like he had been witness to for many a century.  
  
“No, stop!” Oliver protested weakly, falling to his knees as he bowed before The Source of All Evil, Submitting, his blazing blue eyes met Ra’s brown soulless gaze, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t hurt my sister.”  
  
Cupping his ear, R’as inquired, “What was that, my weak insignificant subordinate? I do not think I heard you all that well.”  
  
“I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t hurt my sister.” Oliver repeated loudly, glowering at the son of a bitch.  
  
“Very well,” R’as appeased with a smirk that will forever be imprinted in Oliver’s brain. With a resounding snap of his fingers, the devil summoned four of his lackeys. Four demons dressed more like ninjas shimmered in the room at their leader’s command.”  
  
They all bowed collectively, simultaneously greeting, “R’as (Raysh)”  
  
“What is this?” Oliver questioned, his heart beating even faster. He shouted furiously, brows resembling a washboard, “We had a deal!”  
  
“Ah, but violations cannot simply go unpunished, Al Sah-him.” R’as pointed out, ordering his men, “Take him away.”  
  
Oliver resisted like an ornery old mule, yet the strength of four men overpowered him. They knocked him the mortal way with a blow to the head. When Oliver awoke, he was stripped of his shirt clad only in black leather pants and a mask to match. He’d been gagged. Profuse sweat adorned his scarred skin from numerous demon battles in the past few months. His ankles and wrists were shackled to the cavernous floor, pulling on them. He tried one final time to break from his confinement, yet again nothing became of it. Upon the sound of a jangling handcuff, R’as himself took an enormous arrowhead, dipping it into the “blessed” flames of where they reside. The jangling chains were like music to his ears. There, R’as pressed the flaming hot arrowhead, pressing it to Al Sah-him’s bare back.  
  
“Mmph, ugh.” Oliver grunted pitifully, his anguish merely muffled by the leather that gagged his mouth.  
  
His body trembled against the searing pain of the arrowhead. His eyes fell shut as R’as branded him like cattle.  
  
“Brothers.” R’as announced to his League, “The initiation is completed. Al Sah-him will be the rightful heir to my throne once he weds my youngest daughter, Nyssa.”  
  
In hooded red robes, they cheered before bowing before Al Sah-him and Ra’s al Ghul.

* * *

 

Oliver’s eyes popped open, but it was not the League of Assassins he saw before, it was sunlight pouring into his room. Correction, his and his wife’s room. His gray t-shirt was sticking to his skin with sweat.  
  
His breathing was a little erratic, chest jostling up and down as he was trying to orient himself to his surroundings even more than before. It was just a nightmare. However, in actuality, that nightmare was a living, breathing part of past that he buried way down in the depths of his mind. He felt the contrast of a husky cool metal ring against his finger. He spun it further up on his digit, securing it tightly. His eyes flitted over to a picture on his nightstand.  
  
It was actually a smaller version of a portrait, Felicity’s grandmother Agatha had commissioned. Despite Al Sah-him being a part of his past, his black kevlar armor was a part of his present. After all, he needed something to protect him from demon guts. Felicity, his girlfriend at the time, stood slightly in front of him. The photo depicted intense steely gazes, although their hearts exchanged something more powerful than any magic, or maybe that feeling was magical all in its own. Love because while that picture didn’t showcase that same sentiment they sure as Hell felt that way about each other. Oliver expected to feel Felicity’s pale, but warm body beside him. Clearly, that was not the case.  
  
Finally after a long moment of gathering himself together, Oliver shouted, “Felicity?!”  
  
Her combat boots bound the long flight of stairs harshly. Immediately, the door creaked open to reveal Felicity carrying her bubbe’s rather girly floral tea kettle with a plate of food.  
  
“Hey,” Felicity assured in a gentle whisper, setting the kettle and cups and down on their tiny coffee table by their little loveseat, “I’m here. I’m here.”  
  
Slowly, she approached their bed closer. Felicity toed and pulled off her boots before she plopped down on the bed in front of her husband. Wordlessly, their blue eyes reconvened as they had done so many times before in the past five years.  
  
Clearing her throat, she noted, “Dude, you freaked me out. I thought a demon showed up in our room or something.”  
  
Oliver didn’t utter a single syllable. His gaze, however, flickered down, to Felicity’s purple and black skull and crossbone pajama pants.  
  
“You had the nightmare again, didn’t you?” His wife asked in more of a statement than a question, lifting his chin.  
  
He nodded in a meek silence.  
  
“You wanna talk about it?”  
  
Oliver shook his head with an emphatic refusal.  
  
“No, of course you don’t.” Felicity surmised, reminding her husband, “I’m safe. You’re safe. I promise.”  
  
“Okay,” Her husband believed, desperately wanting to change the subject, “Where were you?”  
  
“I was making you some breakfast,” His wife replied, gesturing over to the tea and biscuits.  
  
“Oh,” Oliver chimed, keeping his face from falling into a cringe of disgust, “You baked?”  
  
God, he loved Felicity more than anything in any dimension, and she could mix potions perfectly. But when it boiled down to cooking or baking in the kitchen try as she might, Felicity couldn’t seem to make any edible food. Either that or she’d burn the manor down due to yet another attempt. Oliver, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. He was a master chef in the kitchen. Granted, his day job was that of an actual personal chef for those who requested his services by morning because demon hunting certainly didn’t pay the bills. Felicity’s usual nine-to-five was being the head of IT department at Palmer Tech.  
  
Felicity quipped, pinching his arm, “Relax, scaredy-cat. My bubbe Aggie made those yesterday, but I drizzled on some honey for you.”  
  
“Ow! The only cat we have is Dig, and he’s sleeping right there.”  
  
Surprisingly, Dig hadn’t even stirred awake. He simply laid under a sunbeam in the lower center of the bed by Oliver and Felicity’s feet. His furry belly expanded and contracted slightly as he took in noisy breaths. His purrs sounded more like snores, though Dig would never admit to that. In truth, Dig was no ordinary black cat.

Formerly, in his past life, he was a highly decorated Master Sergeant in the United States’ Army. Unfortunately in 2012, he died in the line of fire, saving one of his private’s hides from an imminent demise. During his journey up towards the white pearly gates, the elders - a magical high council who oversee and govern the forces of good an evil- along with their fellow whitelighter Tommy felt as if Mr. John Thomas Diggle had something more to do in his life, something greater. Now to most magical beings, a life in whiskers and fur seemed like a fate worse than death. However, Dig really enjoyed being a familiar. This job gave him an even greater sense of purpose, guiding young witches and wizards to help them for the good of all innocents. Plus, the transference of  Tommy’s astral and transformation powers to Dig really aided in sealing the deal. Unfortunately due to his time as a familiar, those powers were only temporary throughout each day. After a span of sixteen hours, Dig would revert back to a floor’s eye view. Dig’s paws swiped playfully at nothing, but air in his dream-like state. Felicity petted him gently.  
  
“Oliver, Honey. You haven’t touched your food.”  
  
“Thanks, Baby, but I’m not hungry.”  
  
Felicity tacked on, pitching her eyebrow lasciviously, “For food?”  
  
Felicity was just about to shove her husband back on the bed when she accidentally kicked Dig’s tail, pinning it to the comforter with her foot in the process.  
  
“Reow,” Dig objected, hissing in annoyance.  
  
With his big bright yellow eyes, he shot Felicity a patent grumpy stare before he leaped off the end of their bed. He blinked his eyes once, and feline Dig transformed from cat to man.  
  
He bid, crossing his broad, strong arms over his chest, “I’m out of here.”  
  
“Dig, I’m sorry.” Felicity called out as her friend was about to exit their room.  
  
Shaking his head, Dig thought aloud, “You two are insatiable.”  
  
“She started it,” Oliver accused, pointing fingers at his wife as if he was a guilty child.  
  
Dig dismissed, leaving the couple to their alone time, “Whatever. As long as you don’t scrimp on the good fresh tuna for me tonight, Queen.”  
  
“We will if you stop scratching our bedpost, pussycat,” Felicity heeded, stepping back in their master bedroom.  
  
“Hey,” Their friend shrugged, pointing out, “A brother’s gotta do something to sharpen his claws.”  
  
Felicity giggled at that, shutting the door behind her. She returned to her original spot, sitting on her haunches as she rested in between Oliver’s legs. Felicity pecked an ardent, passionate kiss against Oliver’s lips. Her palm swept over through his short hair. Sometimes she wished that her husband grew his buzz cut out longer. After all, she needed something to grab onto when he woke her up with a Helluva lot more than coffee on lazy Sunday mornings. She pressed her lips against his once, snaking her tongue in his mouth. With one leg hooked around his, Felicity pushed him back against the bed just as she originally intended. Her fingertips sneaked up his gray t-shirt, lifting it further and further until his deliciously bare skin was exposed to her ravenous eyes. Despite his horrific memories, he peeled off his shirt the rest of the way, going straight for that little white knot on his wife’s pajama pants. However, Felicity slapped his hand away in anticipation.  
  
His wife coaxed with a playful finger wag, “Not yet.”  
  
“But…”  
  
On that note, her black tank top joined his gray t-shirt on the floor. His gaze traveled slowly over her body. Felicity’s raven locks were still a tad messy. The purple streaks in her hair shone brilliantly with the late morning sun. He catalogued every freckle, and that they were adorable. However, the voluptuousness of her breast was strikingly sinful. Her dusky pink nipples were a glorious contrast to her pale. That was when it hit him. God, she wasn't wearing a bra. Of course, she wasn’t, it was a weekend morning. He whimpered, positively aching to touch her..  
  
“Better?” She suspected, quelling a moan with her fingertip. “Poor baby, just wait.”  
  
Felicity slid down his body. Suddenly, her tongue darted out, mapping out every single scar and ridge of pure muscle on his torso. Her touch was reverently, almost healing, and full of the utmost love for him, despite his past. She teased him, licking mere centimeters under his bellybutton. Judging by the tent in his boxers, Oliver was nearly ready to go, yet not quite there yet. Felicity brazenly yanked his black boxers down, and Oliver lifted his hips, so she could pull it off completely. Doing just that, Felicity planted kisses along the well-cut V of his pelvis, leaving a lingering smooch right above where he wanted her to be.  
  
Her name was the closest thing he’d ever come to a prayer.  
  
“Felicity.” He moaned, languidly thinking, “Honey, you don’t have to…”  
  
Much to his surprise, her warm breath delicately ghosted over his cock before her lips enveloped his large member at the tip. He grunted, cock slowly thrusting into her mouth at his own volition. His hands settled in her hair, searching for purchase. She really didn’t have to do this for him. Normally, Felicity liked it much better the other way around, and wasn’t a huge fan when the situation was reversed. He never, ever make his wife do anything she didn’t want to because Oliver learned from Agatha how independent and strong-willed Smoak women truly were. Despite her feelings about oral sex, Felicity knew better than anyone that this moment would replace a bad memory with a good one. She sucked harder, causing him to emit a guttural groan. Felicity’s hand confidently stroked over what she couldn’t taste. Damn, her mouth was wet, warm, and just as perfect as when her walls were wrapped snugly around his member. There was just something about the way her red lipstick around his dick added to the tantalizing sight before him, the way he fit in her little palm. When her gaze flickered to his and her cheeks hollowed out against nothing but him. White hot pleasure burned at the base of his spine.

Right as he was on the edge, a startled voice shouted, “Felicity!”  
  
Upon hearing Dig’s call, Felicity slipped back into her shirt before running downstairs. Fuck, man. That was supposed to him saying her name like that with less fear and more ecstasy.  
  
Tucking himself back in his boxers, Oliver promised in a strained tone, “I’ll be there in a sec. Felicity, be careful.”  
  
“I always am.” She quipped, pulling on her boots.  
  
“Felicity!” Dig yelled again, “I know this is a bad spy line, but we have company. I need you and Queenie down her A.S.A.P.”  
  
Following a few deep breaths, Oliver fixed his shirt, “I’m coming.”  
  
“Well, you almost were,” His wife joked, earning her an annoyed glare.  
  
Felicity asked, “Too soon, huh?”  
  
“Yeah,” He breathed, avoiding her touch right now because his nerves made him feel like a live wire. “I’ll return the favor later.”  
  
Her smeary red lips curled into a delighted smile, “You’d better, mister.”  
  
Oliver and Felicity rushed to their living room, expecting Dig to be in a sense of danger. But that clearly wasn’t the case. Dig looked like he was on the wrong side of the tracks, experiencing some sort of acid trip or something. However, Dig attested to the fact that he’d never do any drugs because he was very afraid of the crazy stuff he’d see while on them.  
  
“Friends of yours?” Dig guessed, not removing his big brown eyes from a swirling navy blue portal.  
  
“Zatanna!” Felicity announced cheerfully, nearly barreling into her friend for a hug.  
  
“Good to see you too, Felicity.” With a wave of her hand, she cast, “ _Laecnoc_ (Conceal)”  
  
The twosome’s unexpected entrance shriveled into a tiny blue dot no bigger than a pinprick.  
  
Adopting a British accent, Oliver greeted, “Old friend, not so lovely to see you right now.”  
  
Especially, considering what was going on in the Queens’ bedroom mere moments ago.  
  
“You need to work on your accent there.” Constantine responded, grinning broadly as he pulled his friend for a bro-hug, “You wanker.”  
  
“Um…” Felicity began, wondering, “It’s not that we’re not happy to see you two, but what are you doing here?”  
  
Zatanna informed, already heading towards the basement of Queen manor, “Your bubbe called us, and asked for a favor to make sure the Nexus is still banished under the house.”  
  
Eyeing John Diggle like candy, Constantine interjected, “Ooh, and who’s this fine specimen of a man.”  
  
Much to her chagrin, Zatanna harrumphed, latching arms with her boyfriend as the group ventured down a creaky older set of stairs to the basement. Dig didn’t need his cat-like night sight to understand how much the brunette woman was shooting him one deadly glare.  
  
“John!” Oliver snapped, burrowing his fingers into Felicity’s as they approached the final step.  
  
Both Dig and Constantine answered simultaneously, “Yes.”  
  
“Sorry, I meant Constantine,” He corrected hastily, “Now is not the time to flirt.”  
  
“Oh, so you were checking me out. Yeah, man. I don’t go that way, but if things don’t work on with you and Zatanna, you might like our friend Curtis Holt.”  
  
Felicity piped up, “He’s mortal.”  
  
“Excuse me, Felicity?” Zatanna scoffed, clearly affronted, “Not you too.”  
  
Oliver whispered sharply, “Hon.”  
  
“United front,” She mouthed silently.  
  
They posse of friends reached the basement floor, shoes smacking against concrete. The large crack that split the floor in half was still prominent. Oliver and Felicity begged his grams Clarissa and Agatha to fix it, but they told them to leave the floor. Occasionally when Oliver was a little boy, he heard strange noises, saw actual darkness, which made him never want to go in the basement again. He hadn’t even thought about in decades, locking that memory away in the confines of his mind.

* * *

**_Twenty-six Years Ago_ **

  
The resounding clink of a metal bat could be heard in Oliver’s spacious backyard. While his parents were off fighting demons and helping innocents, the youngest Queen boy and Thea were under the watchful eye of his grandmother, Clarissa. He and Tommy were playing baseball out back with no magic because that would be cheating. His grandmother rarely had friends over with the exception of a weekly Sunday bridge game, so when the doorbell rang on a Friday night, it was rather peculiar.  
  
Before Tommy wound up for the pitch, Clarissa requested, “Ollie, my sweet boy, would you get the door please?”  
  
“Sure, grams.”  
  
“Dude, our game,” Tommy whined, “Why don’t you have your nanny, Raisa get it or something?”  
  
“A) Raisa’s off the clock. B) You’ve don’t wanna make my grams mad, and c) Just because we have powers and money, it is nice to do things for yourself.”  
  
Tommy coughed, “Whipped.”  
  
Ollie stuck his tongue at his friend, opening the heavy front door just as his grams had asked.  
  
The gold knocker was seconds away from hitting the oak wood when a kind elderly lady, “Hello, little boy. Is your grandmother home?”  
  
Ollie inquired, raising both eyebrows in suspicion, “Before I answer, who are you?”  
  
She offered him a nice smile with crows’ feet adorning her gentle blue eyes, “My name is Agatha Smoak, but please call me Aggie.”  
  
“Smoak?” Realization dawned upon him, “Oh, you must be related to Felicity, then. Right?”  
  
“Yes,” She chuckled, making her way inside, “Felicity is my brilliant little granddaughter. I’m an old friend of your grams.”  
  
“How do you know her?”  
  
“Uh, well.” Aggie replied in hesitation, licking her thin lips, “I suppose you could say we used to work together.”  
  
Ollie seemed to accept that response, escorting Aggie over to his grams in the kitchen “Oh, okay.”  
  
“Thank you.” Clarissa said, ruffling her grandson’s spiky blonde locks.  
“Aw, grams!” He groaned, adjusting his hair back in place, “Not the hair!”  
  
“I may say your grandson is quite the little gentleman, Clary.”  
  
“Clary?” Ollie reiterated, looking shocked and amused.  
  
She gestured for him to stand up straight, noting, “It was a nickname as a teenager, young man. Now you go  on with your baseball game with Tommy. Aggie and I have some work to do.”  
  
Pursing his lips in confusion, Oliver wondered, “What kind of work?”  
  
“Bridge,” Aggie stepped in at the same time Clarissa fibbed, “Sewing.”  
  
“Huh? You only play bridge on Sundays.”  
  
Clarissa amended rapidly as literal darkness crept up from behind the adjacent basement door, “We’re going to play bridge then sew.”  
  
His heart started to race, “What was that?”  
  
“The Boogie man,” Aggie butted in again. “Or as my little Lissy calls him the Woogie man.”  
  
“Aggie!” Her friend chided, gently smacking Aggie’s back with a dish towel.  
  
Oliver bit his lip, hand tapping against his hip clad in khaki shorts.  
  
“Never you mind, Ollie.” His grandmother insisted, ordering, “Just go play baseball now. Go on. It’s going to be okay.  
  
“But…”  
  
Clarissa reprimanded, using a much more stern tone of voice, “Oliver Jonas Queen…”  
  
“Your better listen to your grandmother, sweetheart,” Aggie urged, ushering the ten year old away from the from the stove.  
  
Sighing heavily with a roll of his eyes, Oliver headed back out the yard. However, when he immediately noticed the pair journeying down towards the basement, he re-entered the kitchen again as soon as the door fell shut. According to Esrin Fortuna, a shaman-like woman, Starling City was one of the hubs for an evil Nexus - a literal dark entity that uses the body of the weakest magical being available in a parasitic manner as a means to control the forces of both light and dark. Together, Clarissa and Agatha had enough combined power to summon the Nexus, and trap him in one spot,

Joining hands, the witches chanted in unison, “Natum ad a necral dona in tan la noc.”  
  
The shadow-like entity slithered around the room, engulfing it  in a charcoal black gas. Before the dark entity could use Aggie as its host, they recited a spell to banish the creature  
  
_“I am light. I am one too strong to fight._  
_Return to dark where shadows dwell._  
_You cannot have this good vessel_  
_Go away and leave my sight._  
_And take with you this endless night_.”  
  
The Nexus was in the air like smoke, yet it was fixated above one spot as was Ollie, staring at the door. It was as if his shoes were glued to the tiled floor. His gaze remained honed on that white wooden door - the only barrier between him and the supposed Boogie man.  
  
“ _Moqesh_ (Snare),” Aggie cast adamantly with a loud voice.  
  
A crack rippled through the cement flooring of the Queens’ basement, effectively ensnaring the shadow under the Queen Manor.

* * *

**_Present Day_**  
  
Constantine squatted down, noticing an empty ray of light, where the Nexus once remained trapped for all eternity.  
  
“Ooh, boy.” Constantine grimaced.  
  
Palming his face, Oliver surmised, “Oh, that’s never good.”  
  
“We have to summon the Nexus,” Zatanna prompted, gripping John’s shoulder.  
  
“Why?” Felicity worried, twisting the rings on her left finger, “The shadow is more powerful than Ra’s al Ghul himself.”  
  
Dig figured, mentioning, “So Aggie and Clary sent you two lovebirds down here for a retcon mission?”  
  
“Yes,” The couple confirmed harmoniously.  
  
“My love and I have enough power to summon the shadow. He’s going to go after Dig, considering he’s the weakest.”  
  
“Oh, damn!” Dig grumbled, looking up at the ceiling, “Tommy, what did you get me into?”  
  
Bells merely jingled in their ears from literal Heavens as a vote of confidence.  
  
“Ready, darling?” Constantine began, laying his palms underneath Zatanna’s.  
  
She nodded, humming, “Mmhm.”  
  
“ _Natum ad a necral dona in tan la noc._ ” The pair summoned.  
  
Unfortunately, Ra’s also used the same spell from the depths of the underworld.  
  
It was split into two halves until, Constantine and Zatanna repeated multiple times, getting progressively louder with each attempt, “ _Natum ad a necral dona in tan la noc_.”  
  
Harsh dark winds swirled around the room.  
  
“Oliver, Felicity.” Dig advised, practically yelling, “Say the spell before this motherfucking shadow gets a hold of me now!”  
  
They started, holding on tight to one another:  
  
_“I am light. I am one too strong to fight._  
_Return to dark where shadows dwell…_ ”  
  
“Not that one, mates.” Constantine corrected, “the spell to vanquish the Suxen.”  
  
Thank, God, Felicity had a damn near perfect photographic memory. She read the Smoak and Queen spell books from cover to cover.  
  
Immediately, the Queens course-corrected:  
  
_“From ancient time this power came,_  
_For all to have but none to reign._  
_Take it now, show no mercy,_  
_For this power…”_  
  
Before they could finish reciting the vanquishing spell, it dispersed upward away from the manor.  
  
Opening his strongly clamped eyes, Dig breathed a sigh of relief, “So that’s it? It’s over.”  
  
“I’m afraid not, handsome.” Constantine denied, pulling out a cigarette from the pocket in his camel colored trench coat.  
  
With a frown, Zatanna noted, “You two didn’t finish the spell.”  
  
“So where could the shadow have gone?” Felicity wondered, strongly squeezing Oliver’s hand.  
  
Her husband stated gravely, “I know.”  
  
In the fiery depths of Hell, Ra’s stood before his throne. Despite the Nexus invading the weakest magical being, The Source of All Evil demanded a crone strip him of his powers, knowing the Queens’ moves before they make them. Ra’s eyes popped open, the orbs completely engulfed in pure darkness. Channeling the Nexus, R’as became stronger than he ever has before.


	3. Love Locked

( _Thanks to captainolicitysbedroom on Tumblr for the fan art in this chapter_ )  
  
Felicity managed to scry for the Nexus, using her own blood and a piece of rubble from the concrete. The crystal was drawn to floor like a magnet, indicating that the Nexus was indeed located in Hell. Constantine and Zatanna had returned to Hell, solely to prevent lower level demons and that monster Trigon from taking over the mortal realm. It was part of the reason, Constantine couldn’t help Oliver at the time of his capture. He was keeping yet another demonic tyrant at bay. Thankfully, the dual horned, six-eyed creature was imprisoned far off in the underworld in the bowels of a distant planet called Azarath. It was then they know by that information alone, which had immediately set off red flags. R’as was the only one powerful enough to summon the Nexus.  
  
“Oliver,. You can’t just go in there guns ablazing, bro.” Dig heeded, eyes following his friend as he suited up for the imminent battle ahead. “With the Nexus in him, Ra’s is more powerful than he’s ever been.”  
  
Loading the same quiver he pilfered with dark arrows, Oliver sniped, growling as he didn’t stop moving for a second, “You don’t think I know that?!”  
  
“Hey!” His friend yelled, shoving him against the creamy white wall, “You’re setting yourself up for a suicide mission if you go fisticuffs with the suped up Source of All Evil.”  
  
“I understand.” Oliver grit through clenched teeth, tugging at Dig’s t-shirt, “Now let me go.”  
  
“Or what, man?!” John challenged tersely, screaming, “You and Felicity would be dead ten times over, if it wasn’t for me.”  
  
The icy sense of finality softened in Oliver’s steely blue gaze. Emotion choked him, straining as a huge lump in his throat.  
  
“I don’t know what we’d do without you, John. You’re my brother, and I will always be grateful to have you in my life, but I need to protect, Felicity for me. Okay?”  
  
“Felicity doesn’t need my protection or yours, Oliver.”  
  
She really didn’t. Felicity had the active powers for combat - ones to freeze time and blow up stuff. But more than that, she had a pure heart, amazing courage, and an IQ higher than Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein. That was why she’d been scouring through the Smoak and Queen familes’ Book of Shadows. They needed more than a vanquishing spell to obliterate the Suxen. Right now they needed to pray for a goddamned miracle at this point.  
  
John continued, shaking his head at the audacity of Oliver’s pigheadedness, “Do you have some sort of smart plan when you face off with him?”  
  
Shrugging his shoulders, Oliver’s azure eyes flitted down to his black leather books. After a long beat, he sighed heavily, “I don’t even have a regular plan.”  
  
“You fucking idiot,” Dig insulted, muttering lowly under his breath.  
  
“Excuse me?” Oliver piped up, clearly affronted. He angrily elaborated, “This has nothing to do with me. This is about keeping Felicity, my wife, safe - no matter the cost.”  
  
“Don’t you hide behind her. Don’t you dare. Only a coward thinks of excuses for his complete and utter stupidity.”  
  
Oliver’s face fell into a frown, the mingling of anguish and worried weighted on his deeply furrowed brow.  
  
Dig’s voice cracked, tears gleaming his chocolate brown eyes, “Are you ever going to tell her, or do I have to your dirty work?”  
  
Unfortunately, Oliver remained quiet. The only sound that disrupted the deadly silence was the broken man’s sharp exhale.  
  
“Felicity!” Dig bellowed after he trudged to the bottom of the staircase, enunciating her name in a way only Oliver used on occasion. Although, frustration and anger rang through his tone.  
  
Their ears were greeted with a loud creak and a door slam followed by the jangle of a familiar piece of jewelry.  
  
Adjusting the chain of her silver ankh around her neck, Felicity quipped, “What’s new, pussycat? We’re kinda trying to save the magical and mortal world here.”  
  
“It’s your funeral, Oliver. You have to tell her.”  
  
“Oh, no.” Felicity assumed upon seeing Oliver’s old quiver, stepping downstairs, “No, no, no! This plan is not going to work, Queen.”  
  
“I haven’t even said anything yet, Baby.” Her husband pointed out, attempting to hold her in his arms.  
  
There were only a few times Oliver called Felicity ‘Baby’ in bed and when he knew he was going to be in a shit load of trouble.  
  
She baited, her dark lips ticking up in a wry, disbelieving smile, “Alright, so can you honestly tell me that you didn’t concoct some crazy plan taking on R’as al Ghul - The Source of All Evil by yourself?”  
  
“It’s the bylaws of the League of Assassins.” He recalled, muttering his response lowly.  
  
His wife growled, “Oh, don’t try and give me that shit. We’ve gone against every single thing they stand for over decades.”  
  
“I’m not trying to feed you any line.” Oliver promised, directing his attention toward John and Felicity, “This is about keeping you and John safe.”  
  
If that answer wasn’t the biggest load of bull crap Felicity’s ever heard. Rage skyrocketed through her, rising faster than a thermometer in a volcano. Her pearly white teeth starkly contrasted her nearly black lipstick. An eerily quiet rumble was emitted from Felicity’s from the depths of her throat. She wrung her hands together, contemplating her next move. How could anyone be so stubborn? In a succinct manner, Felicity waved her hands, mimicking a dual karate chop. She was usually never one to use her powers against her own husband. But goddammit, the pigheaded jackass deserved that and then some. Luckily, Oliver orbed in the nick of time, shooting his wife an incredulous glare.  
  
A swift palm burned against his cheek, she insisted, “I am not letting you do this. If you think for one second, Oliver Jonas Queen, that I’m going to allow you to try something as insane as this.”  
  
“What the fuck was that for?” Oliver questioned, rubbing the sharp sting across his face. “I need to end this, Felicity -whether you like it or not.”  
  
“I don’t!” Felicity proclaimed adamantly, using her loud voice, “Your plan is absolutely crazy.”  
  
Palming his forehead, Oliver declared,“This is not crazy. Someone once told me ‘The essence of heroism is to die.”  
  
And there it was, Oliver didn’t care whether or not he lived or died. What about their lives together? Where was his self-worth? There was always another way. However, they had a problem searching for a second solution at the moment. What happened to wanting a family, despite the hecticness of their lives.  
  
“You want to die?” Felicity gulped, tears welling her eyes as guilt suffocated her. “That’s really the outcome you want?”  
  
A foot nervously twitched by his leg in a slow fashion.  
  
He confessed, pulling her closer, “I would do anything for you.”  
  
In Oliver’s mind, his own life wasn’t of any importance. Stopping R’as, even though, he understood the war they waged most likely meant death, assured that Felicity would never have to tangle with the Demon’s head. Yet, what about her? This was one of the worst pains she’d experienced in her thirty some odd years of life?  
  
“And what about us?” Felicity rasped, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, “What about our plans? Our family?”  
  
Oliver wanted nothing more for his wife to have that - the ultimate sense of joy of a family, and yes, even another man - a better man, one who was more deserved of her love.  
  
His wife interjected, interlacing their fingertips, “There’s no better man who deserves my love more than you, Oliver. I can’t accept that. I won’t because I know you’re it for me.”  
  
Ah, so he had indeed spoken that all aloud. Picking up on one another’s habits was a definite marital perk.  
  
“Promise you’ll come back to me.” Felicity pleaded, squeezing his hands tighter. She was well aware he couldn’t - not when going head to head with R’as. Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper, face crumpling in anguish, “Please, Oliver.”  
  
He uttered her like a reverent prayer, “Felicity,”  
  
“No,” She croaked out, “Don’t say it.”  
  
Wiping her tears away, Oliver held her face delicately in his calloused hands, “The only way I’m going to ever get through this is knowing that you’re going to be out there living your life, happy.”  
  
Snot dribbles stained his back leather armor, and Felicity clung to him so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She needed this moment, to hold Oliver, to be held by him, to feel his heart beating rapidly against her chest so in sync with hers. It was everything, but this moment couldn’t last forever.  
  
“You know,” Felicity sniffled, pointing out, “We’re not used to saying goodbye. You’ve been a part of my life for so long - the best part of my life. I won’t say goodbye to you because I swear on my grandma Aggie’s spellbook, I will find a way to bring you back to me.”  
  
“Honey,” Oliver reminded, “We both understand, even with our abilities, that’s not always...”  
  
His wife cut him off, pressing an index finger to his mouth, “Shut up.”  
  
His lips pursed together in a thin line.  
  
“Tell me you love me.” She requested, brushing her slightly pink nose against his.  
  
As if it was only for her, he mustered up the most heartfelt sentence that was similar to their wedding vows, “I love you more than you can ever know, Felicity. You are my always.”  
  
“And forever,” Felicity continued in a small, watery sob.  
  
Oliver prompted, “One more thing from me though before I go.”  
  
“Anything, anything you want”. His wife promised. “Just name it.”  
  
He requested, “Kiss me. I just… I need you to…”  
  
Oliver omitted the use of the words ‘for the last time or ‘because you’re the only person I want to have as my last kiss’, realizing that sentiment would only make Felicity sadder. The dim chandelier above them softly lit a needy smooch between the couple. In these times of darkness, Dig believed it was fitting for Oliver and Felicity to do so. Their mouths collided against one another in a bruising kiss, which morphed into a much more tender display of affection. Their lips parted unwillingly due to an unfortunate need for oxygen, yet their soft skin still grazed each other until they broke away completely. Puffs of air contrasted the pathway of two single tears falling from their cheeks.  
  
She whispered, hands sliding down his leather-clad chest, “I love you.”  
  
“I have to go.”  
  
“Oliver,” Felicity cried desperately as Dig held her back in his massively strong arms, “No, stop it! Let me go!”  
  
Oliver repeated before orbing to Hell, “I love you, Felicity.”  
  
A blue remnants of light was the final trace of her husband that Felicity saw in that instant. She wriggled and kicked Dig, hoping to escape his hold. Sadly, it was no use.  
  
“Let me go, John!” Felicity grit.  
  
Dig noted, pointing out, “Hey, I don’t like this as much as you.”  
  
“Well you sure have a funny way of showing it, cat.” Felicity scoffed, threatening, “Don’t make me blow you up too.”  
  
With a skeptical eyebrow raise, John doubted, “You wouldn’t? Would you?”  
  
“Try me, whiskers.” She grunted, craning her neck up to meet her friend’s gaze. Enunciating every word, Felicity ordered, “Let. Me. Go. Now.”  
  
John loosened his firm grip, setting his friend back on the floor gently.  
  
“Thanks,” Felicity obliged, not sounding the least bit grateful. Poking his chest, she intimidated, “Never do that again, John, or you won’t have nine lives left.”  
  
“Noted,” He gulped, mentioning, “We both know when Oliver sets his mind to something, there’s absolutely no changing it.”  
  
She nodded, realizing, “It’s just one of the reasons why I love him. I had never met a man who was more passionate in fighting for what he believes in. He is incredibly stubborn, but he’s also willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect the ones he loves.”  
  
“Mmm,” John hummed in approval, resembling his unavoidable feline form right now. Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, he inquired, “So now what are we going to do?”  
  
‘I don’t know’ was never a run in their playbook.  
  
Felicity astutely vowed, “More research because we’re going to do whatever it takes to bring him back to me - no matter what.”  
  
Oliver orbed down to a familiar chamber in the demonic world. R’as was sitting in wait at his throne, though that being was no longer R’as. The Source of All Evil was merely a host body for the Nexus. Literal Darkness clouded the eyes of the demon’s head. Blue lightning sizzled in his palms, zapping in Oliver’s direction. Luckily, the seasoned warlock dodged with the swiftness of a highly trained ninja.  
  
“Constantine, Zatanna!” Oliver urged, yelling up towards the cavernous ceiling, “Anytime, now!”  
  
Zatanna cast, “Laever (Reveal)”  
  
Constantine and Zatanna appeared from a stone wall.  
  
“Ready, loves?” Constantine announced.  
  
Of course, Oliver had a plan. He didn’t say it was a good one, yet he prayed to God it would work in his favor. He couldn’t clue Dig and Felicity in on said plan because it would risk endangering them. If Oliver made it through this, he’d knew he’d pay for his deceit later. But right now they had to vanquish the Suxen. Alone, Oliver, Constantine, and Zatanna were not powerful enough to vanquish this darkness, but together this might be their shot. Felicity was quite aware of the spell to destroy The Shadow. In her worry, she didn’t remember it, and matters were only made worse when it dawned on her that Oliver ripped it out of their book.  
  
Noticing how fast R’as was on the move, Zatanna heeded, “We have to hurry.”  
  
Joining hands, the group chanted:  
  
_“From ancient time this power came,_  
_For all to have but none to reign._  
_Take it now, show no mercy,_  
_For this power can no longer be_.”  
  
The Nexus spewed out of Ra’s body, dispersing into nothing but air. A loud quake shook the gates of Hell.  
  
“Oh, no!” Zatanna gasped, figuring,“Trigon.”  
  
Constantine explained, fleeing off to a much greater problem, “Duty calls. Good luck, mate.”  
  
R’as fell to his knees, if only for a moment. With the crone’s removal of his powers, he was now only a mere mortal. But R’as was anything, but powerless. His soul had embodied many a man for centuries. He was highly skilled in various forms of martial arts.  
  
“Clever, boy.” His adversary smirked, rising to his feet, “I knew I chose well with you, Al Sah-him.”  
  
Aiming his bow, he snarled, “My name is Oliver Queen.”  
  
“Autrukh (Leave it). R’as ordered, reminding, “Per jurisdiction of the League of Assassins, we must settle your dishonor in a trial by combat.”  
  
Oliver spat, his weapon clattering to the ground, “Fine. A duel, no powers, no magic.”  
  
A regal voice announced, “Father has since relinquished that right.”  
  
“Nyssa?” Oliver presumed, cocking an eyebrow.  
  
Stepping out of the shadows, her boots clomped over the stone ground.  
  
She greeted, a smile ticking up on her lips, “Hello, husband.”  
  
“I am not your husband.” He growled in protest, reiterating, “I am not your anything.”  
  
“Very well.” Nyssa accepted easily, arms crossing over her chest as she asked, “And where is your sword, Mr. Queen?”  
  
Well, he neglected to pack the sharper weaponry in his quiver. Biting his lower lip, Oliver remained intensely silent.  
  
“Ha!” R’as laughed. Oliver didn’t even think that was possible for such an evil former demon. With a snap of his fingers, he called forth, “Maseo, fetch Al Sah-him a sword from our armory at once.”  
  
Maseo bowed dutifully, responding, “Of course, my liege. Right away.”  
  
“A warrior without a sword. How shameful” The Demon’s head taunted, asking rhetorically, “Have I taught you nothing in our brief time together?”  
  
Unsheathing the sword from its encasement, Oliver’s former friend presented, “Your weapon, traitor.”  
  
Nyssa chided, directing “Maseo, that’s enough. Back to your post”  
  
R’as cleared his throat, and before the two could start bickering like petulant children, they retreated to their rightful places amongst the rest of the League.  
  
“Considering our location, I suppose we shall forego the traditional removal of shirts.” The Demon’s head condoned.  
  
Oliver agreed with a nod, hard, stoic lines wrinkling his face. His striking azure eyes burned with a fiery determination. Oliver lowered his leather mask, bowing respectfully. He couldn’t let fear overtake him now. R’as was a far better swordsman. However, he had to keep Felicity safe at any cost. Swords whipped out, cutting through the humid air. Their weapons clashed in a resounding slice, battling for dominance. R’as gained the upper hand, but Oliver ducked down low, aiming for his legs. Still, he yanked Oliver up his leather clad armor.  
  
Maseo cheered, “Finish him, R’as (Raysh)”  
  
R’as put Oliver in a chokehold against a cave-like wall, pulling his competitor away slightly. R’as had Oliver purely at his mercy With his free hand, The Source of All Evil lived up to his name, stabbing Oliver straight through his abdomen.  
  
Flashes of him and Tommy as children, meeting Dig at a farmer’s market, and his first kiss with Felicity as husband and wife all materialized in his mind’s eyes as his life slowly slipped away  
  
“Oh!” Oliver gurgled, his eye widening from the sheer pain of the stab. Fresh red blood spilled from his wound as well as his mouth.  
  
Safely surrounded by a slew of books, Felicity felt a sharp, stabbing pain wrenching through her lower abdomen. She yelled in bone-deep agony, “Oh!”  
  
“Felicity!” John shouted anxiously, rushing to his charge’s aid. Thankfully, he caught her before she doubled over onto her knees, “What is it? What’s going on?”  
  
Eyes clenching shut, she grabbed her stomach in the same exact spot Oliver had been stabbed, “The blood bond.”  
  
The blood bond is a rather archaic wedding tradition in the Smoak and Queen families. The couple would purposely slice their thumb open, and droplets of one another’s blood would be spilled onto their partner’s ring. It was a tradition dating back centuries to Felicity’s three times great-grandmother, Spendora. It hurt physically quite a bit, but for Oliver and Felicity, the blood bond indicated that they were emotionally and psychically linked.  
  
He prayed gravely, weakly calling out before he collapsed at R’as’ feet, “Fel…”  
  
“Fel…” She heard him in her mind, informing, “Dig. It’s Oliver. Ie’s hurt badly, but he’s… he’s still alive. I need you to use your astral projection on me.”  
  
“Felicity, I can’t just…”  
  
His friend roared, despite the acute pain radiating through such a small portion of her stomach, “Do it now!”  
  
Dig clutched Felicity’s hand tightly. Her physical body dropped at his feet and a translucent astral projection figure appeared floating above her mortal form. No, she wasn’t dead. Her physical body was merely asleep.  
  
“Oliver,” She thought hopefully, focusing on her true love for him.  
  
This would only work for a short while. Felicity drifted above Oliver’s body, seeing how badly wounded he really was. She gasped in shock, returning to her physical form in a matter of minutes.  
  
“Qad 'illah himayatuk min alshshrri, abni (May God protect you from evil, my son.)” Ra’s spoke to Allāh per the League’s customary ritual, kicking Oliver like a worthless piece of trash.  
  
“No!” Nyssa cried, seeking revenge. While her father was standing over Oliver’s body. She revealed a knife from her boot, murdering her own father within seconds.  
  
Maseo accused, pointing a finger at her, “Mutiny!”  
  
“Think again, my dear. I wanted to be the one to kill. My duty has been fulfilled.” She retorted, slipping her father’s ring on her finger. “I, Nyssa al Ghul, daughter of The Source of All Evil, am the new R’as.”  
  
“R’as (Raysh)” Most of the League bowed with the exception of Maseo.  
  
“How dare?” He opposed, claiming, “Sisters, brothers, this is treason.”  
  
“This man is a fool.” Nyssa proclaimed, requesting, “You three there, take him to the prison chamber.”  
  
Three men followed ordered like the soldiers. As for R’as, Nyssa burned his deceased husk of a body with a nearby torch. She dropped to her knees, checking Oliver’s heartbeat. It was faint, but it was still there. Years, her beloved Ta-er al-Usfar (Sara Lance) urged that she trust the Queens with her life. Her lover promised that Oliver and Felicity were the keys in escaping her father’s underworld. He was fatally weak, which signaled his powers weren’t going to able to work down here.  
  
“Mrs. Queen.” She hoped, talking to nothing as she and a friend lifted Oliver onto a stretcher, “Whatever you have planned, I suggest you execute it rapidly.”  
  
Felicity’s breathing was erratic when she woke, her chest heaving up and down as she summoned loudly, “Tommy!”  
  
The minutes ticked away, and the wait felt heavy overtop her entire torso.  
  
“T-Tommy!”  
  
Dig demanded fiercely, “Brother, you better get you angelic ass down here now!”  
  
“Tom… Mmph.”  
  
Tommy orbed in, placing his hand over mouth.  
  
“I heard you the first time.” Tommy assured, hastily removing his hand from her lips, “I’m sorry, I was dealing with another charge, Melissa in Iowa, I had to keep her from jumping out of an eighth story window. Now what’s going on?”  
  
Her voice was strained, “Ol- Oliver’s, he hurt.”  
  
“We need you to go to him. A.S.A.P.” Dig continued, needing Felicity to save her breath, “I’ve got things covered on the homefront.”  
  
With only one question asked, Tommy needed to know, “Where is he?”  
  
“He’s in literal Hell, man.” Dig informed, urging, “Go now.”  
  
“On it.” Tommy responded, promising, “I will bring him back to you, Felicity. I can save him.”  
  
Tommy could typically sense any one of his charges, but Oliver was fading fast. Luckily, he picked up on a familiar signal. Orbing straight to Oliver’s bedside.  
  
Nyssa claimed, inquiring, “Intruder, who are you? Friend or foe?”  
  
“Friend,” He assured, raising both of his hands, “I’m a whitelighter. See? Bow and arrow.”  
  
Just as he had said, the bow and arrow orbed to his hands, solely by using his mind. Nyssa nodded minutely. For some reason, Tommy couldn’t heal him, and Oliver couldn’t heal himself. Thankfully he was kept alive by a potion courtesy of Yao Fei, which was derived mainly from penicillin. He took an entire canteen’s worth, orbing his friend up to the attic onto a couch. It was adorned with a sea of pillows.  
  
Hobbling upstairs and mostly leaning on Dig, Felicity gasped in shock, “Oh, my God!”  
  
“You couldn’t heal him,” John surmised.  
  
Looking down at his work boots, Tommy replied regretfully, “No.”  
  
“Well, then try again.” Felicity grit, falling on her haunches at the armchair by her husband’s bedside.  
  
“I’ve tried multiple times, Felicity.” He told her, noting, “I don’t think I’m the one who’s meant to heal and since he can’t heal himself…”  
  
His charge refused, “No, this is not it for him. I will not accept that.”  
  
Bells dinged in Tommy’s ears, signaling another charge of his needed help.  
  
“Melissa, I have to go.” Tommy stated, despite every fiber in his being desiring to stay here, “Call me if his condition changes, I’m an orb away.”  
  
“I’ll… I’ll set an IV of this penicillin crap.” John thought aloud, taking initiative to do just that.  
  
The Queens’ attic was soon transformed in a medical bay, resembling a hospital in a third world country. Thankfully, her bubbe Aggie’s gypsy friend, Amara, was also an E.R. doctor. She patched up the stab wound in a jiffy, also providing them with an older heart monitor and IV drip. Dig, who was back in whiskers and fur, meowed at Felicity’s feet, nuzzling his face against her calves.  
  
“Nope, buddy. No change.”  
  
His meow was a nice change of pace from that annoying grandfather clock. Though, the heart monitor was a welcome relief. It meant that he was alive.  
  
“Hey, Honey.” She whispered softly, squeezing his hand for some sort of sign, “I know you’ve been through a lot today. You’re tired and weak. But I need you. I need you to keep fighting.”  
  
Oliver didn’t even squeeze her hand like he always did. Weak bids for air caressed her skin. It was almost if they were taunting her. Was Felicity supposed to do? Let her husband die. If he died, both emotionally and physically speaking, especially considering their marital bond, a part of her heart would wither away along with him.  
  
“Oliver, please.” Felicity pleaded desperately, her shoulders jostling with tears, “Come back to me.”  
  
Felicity cried herself to sleep, head resting on Oliver’s legs. Dig conked out at her feet. Felicity sputtered awake after short moments of succumbing to the weight of this dreadful day. She was infuriated at Tommy, at the Elders, and at herself for not being able to make this better something.  
  
She yelled to the Heavens, “This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it? For Oliver to sacrifice himself as a way to rid the underworld of R’as. Are you happy now?! Your little planned worked!”  
  
No bells. No orbing. The night was blanketed in a deafening silence.  
  
Standing firmly on her feet, Felicity demanded, “I will wait here in this very spot until you bring him back to me. You hear me? You bring him back to me right fucking now!”  
  
“Please,” Her voice broke, tears seeming perpetual, “He’s a part of me.”  
  
Despite Tommy not being there physically, it was as if she could hear their whitelighter counseling, “Tell Ollie how much you love him, Felicity.”  
  
She kissed his hand right over his ring, “I need you in my life.”  
  
“You have to come back to me because we’re a team, and without you, it’s like I’ve lost an arm. I can’t live without my other arm.”  
  
Her voice and hands shook, “I love you more than you could ever know. I’ll always be in love with you, and I…”  
  
Suddenly, a golden glow graced her hands exactly like her husband’s half whitelighter. Love was always their trigger. While it never faded, Felicity and Oliver never knew how much they needed it in their lives until now. Her hands hovered over the bandaged stab wound, and with a healing, golden glow, it closed right before her eyes.  
  
His eyes popped open, and he rasped, “F’licity.”  
  
“You’re better?” She asked, tentatively staying at his side.  
  
His voice was scratchy, “You healed me?”  
  
“All a part of Tommy’s plan.” She guessed, smiling broadly.  
  
Oliver coughed, “Jackass.”  
  
Bells dinged in response. Tommy had to do this in order to save their marriage, and the power that was Oliver and Felicity Queen.  
  
“Yeah,” Felicity agreed, lifting a middle finger to the sky.  
  
They rid the underworld of The Source of All Evil, yet the couple was blissfully unaware of a greater battle yet to come. R’as was a weakling in comparison to the next foe they would soon face. Though in this very moment, Oliver and Felicity were alive and happy. For now, that joy was all that mattered to them.


	4. Bothered, Bewitched, and Bewildered

If there was any kind of God, Felicity would’ve been praying to it right now. As would Oliver because for the past week since Oliver’s near death scare, work on the magic front had been pretty nonexistent. They were readying to leave Quake Farmer’s Market. Felicity’s head was nestled comfortably in the crook of her husband’s neck. One of his arms were slung low around her waist. The extraordinary duo was surrounded by the mundaneness of mortal life, and they ate it up. Oliver and Felicity were so wrapped up in each other that the couple failed to notice a little boy zooming past his mother with a Darth Vader action figure in his hand. The toy clattered onto the street.  
  
“Hey,” Oliver smiled politely, picking up the toy, “Don’t wanna lose this guy.”  
  
The boy looked to be about ten, and he was rather dismissive. There was something peculiar about the way he smiled. While still childlike, his expression appeared to be somewhat creepy.  
  
Presumably as the boy’s mother ran past, he finally acknowledged, “Thanks, mister.”  
  
“Jacob!” A scream rippled out from a distance, “Jacob!”  
  
Jacob bumped into Felicity and Oliver, making it appear to be an accident. Unbeknownst to either of them, a dark red glow outlined their bodies. The boy attempted to make another run for it.  
  
Yet Felicity insisted, “Woah, you might wanna wait for your mom, little dude. She is your ride home after all.”  
  
“Oh, right.” He hedged, clutching his action figure tightly, “Of course.”  
  
A forlorn looking waitress in a pale yellow uniform panted, “Jacob, my dear boy, you cannot run off like that.”  
  
“I was not running, mother.” Her son growled angrily, clenching his fist as he accused, “You were moving too slow!”  
  
Tucking a fly away purple strand behind her ear, Felicity thought to herself, “Wow! What a little dick.”  
  
The lady’s voice trembled along with her nerves, shielding her chest with her arms, “R-Right. Of course you weren’t, sweetheart, I’m s-so sorry.”  
  
“All that matters is your boy's safe and sound, ma’am.” Oliver interjected, choosing not to comment on the rather odd and abusive exchange between mother and son.  
  
Despite that, he nonchalantly did a brief scan over the lady’s figure, spotting for any marks of physical. Felicity appeared to be doing the same. Thankfully, they both kept casual and stealthy, appearing as if they noticed some dried food stains splattered on her otherwise clean and pristine white apron.  
  
The waitress obliged, palming sweeping over her dingy purple tresses, “Thank you, again. I just don’t know what has gotten into him.”  
  
On that note, Jacob discreetly twisted his mother’s thumb, pretending as if he was merely holding her hand.  
  
“Ugh,” She groaned weakly, looking absolutely spent already, and it was barely ten in the morning.  
  
Felicity’s eyebrows did that crinkly thing.  
  
“Are you sure you’re alright..?”  
  
The waitress piped up anxiously as if she needed to let them know this instant, “Arella. My name is Arella.”  
  
“Are you sure you’re alright, Arella?” Felicity questioned again. Her tone was wistful and gentle  
  
Oliver continued, “Yeah, you seem a little on edge. If there’s any we can do, please don’t hesitate to call….”  
  
“She is quite fine. She just forgot to take her meds.” Jacob rudely interrupted, grabbing his mother’s wrist. “You better take them before we go to church. Reverend Blood is waiting for us.”  
  
Well, that certainly caught Felicity's attention. Something really bothered Oliver and her about this kid.  
  
“Reverend Blood, huh?” She inquired, eyebrows arching.  
  
“Uh-huh.” Jacob replied, sounding more his age, if only for a brief moment. “He may help bring my father home to us.”  
  
Sharing the same suspicion as his wife, Oliver added, “Is that so? What’s your dad’s name?”  
  
“His name is Arthur.” Arella lied, noting, “He is such a handsome man.”  
  
Jacob sniped once more, “Mother!”  
  
“We should be going now.” Arella feigned a smile, following a gulp.  
  
The duo strode back towards the market, heading over to a nearby alleyway.  
  
“Okay, we need to….” Felicity began, a dark red light surrounded her figure, “Head home.”  
  
“But what about..?” He questioned, suddenly changing gears, “My stew. I wanted to try out a new beef stew.”  
  
They raced to the car, piling the grocery bags in the truck. Hidden from view in a nearby alleyway, Arella was back against a brick wall.  
  
Arella whimpered, lip jutting out as she fell submissively on her knees, “Please do not harm me. I did everything you asked, son.”  
  
If his fiery glowing orange eyes were any indication, Jacob was quite infuriated by her supposed outburst.  
  
“You know you are not supposed to let people know who you are, mother dearest.” He pointed, voice garbled by the demon presence inside his very being.  
  
“I am so, so very sorry.” She begged, claiming, “It just slipped out.”  
  
His dark brown claws dug into her frail arm, slitting a mark across her skin with grayish undertones. She grit her teeth, quelling a tortured shout of agony. Sticky red blood trickled out from the fresh wound.  
  
Using his actual mother’s own words against her, he taunted, “It just slipped out, mother dearest.”  
  
“Okay, okay.” Arella appeased, panting as she nodded her head dutifully, “I’m so….”  
  
“Ah!” Jacob warned quickly, “Silence.”  
  
Her lips pursed shut in a thin line. Her gaze remained solely fixated on her white tennis shoes until Jacob demanded he look at her.  
  
“Father is coming back with or without Blood’s trinkets and peons.”  
  
Her body shivered. Four times she was stolen in the stealth of night. Arella was dragged into interdimensional Hell raped by the most powerful demon in the underworld, far more powerful than that shrimp R’as al Ghul. To think she fell for his charms when he was masquerading as a handsome man by the name of Arthur. Yet Trigon was the conqueror of many words, starting at the tender age of one.  
  
Centuries ago, stories woven around the threads that Trigon was created from the very first original incarnate of the devil himself and the true essence of pure evil in the shadow realm. As his powers grew, so did his thirst for enslaving every single world he came into contact with. Although. Trigon’s inevitable imprisonment by Melinda Dearden and Splendora Spisak, Oliver and Felicity’s three times great-grandmothers, the demon king felt it was necessary to sire an heir. Considering his first three sons rejects, Arella know she was a mere vessel to bore demon spawn. However, the fourth child born was his only daughter, Raven, who showed great promise. There was a twinkle in her eye. That signaled maybe she would be better. Maybe she would be good, and that prophecy rang true. However, she was constantly on the run from Trigon. Not even Arella knew what planet or realm her now teenage daughter remained at this point in time.  
  
Pushing that thought deep down, Jacob’s onslaught of abuse continued. Solely his words alone were frightening.  
  
“Father is coming soon. I can sense him, and when he does, I shall rule by his side to conquer this wretched wasteland of a planet.”  
  
Arella’s eyes widened in fear. She pulled her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth as Jacob laughed maniacally..  
  
The sense of urgency was completely gone when Oliver and Felicity returned to Queen Manor. Felicity to check both the Smoak and Queen families’ Book of Shadows, yet she was perplexed by what she couldn’t remember. Not even the slightest inkling crossed her thoughts. So she busied herself with sword wielding practice. She sliced through nothing but air, moving about the room with such ease and grace. Powers were only a small chunk of the battle when it came to kicking demon ass. They always needed more weapons and skills in their arsenal. The couple was trained well in the Filipino martial arts style of Escrima Kai thanks to a friend of Dig’s, who was a former monk. On top of that, Oliver picked up some superior archery skills and swordsmanship during his unwanted time underneath R’as wing. Felicity, on the hand, learned everything she needed to know from her bubbe Aggie as well as magic school.  
  
Whipping the sword around in a succinct manner, his wife heeded, “Oliver, honey. Move.”  
  
At that very moment, he did not. Oliver almost received one Hell of a butchering from his wife’s sword.  
  
“Sword,” He summoned, awaiting for it to orb in his hand.  
  
Felicity’s face split in a hugely happy grin because it was no ordinary sword. Oliver rolled his eyes.  
  
“Oh, you don’t have to roll your eyes at that.” Felicity declared, egging him on, “C’mon, c’mon. You know the right word, my love.”  
  
God, Felicity loved hearing him say this name. In fact, she reveled in it.  
  
Specifying, Oliver held out his hand to call forth, “Excalibur.”  
  
Sword in the stone during the days of King Arthur and Merlin, Excalibur orbed safely into Oliver’s possession  
  
“Yeah.” She cheered triumphantly, doing her patent fist pump, “I’m so glad you’re mine.”  
  
“Are you talking to me or the sword, Babe?”  
  
Felicity inquired, hoping “Can it be both?”  
  
“Fine.” He relented, shaking his head in amusement, “I still can’t believe Wyatt just let have his most prized possession just like that.”  
  
Wyatt Halliwell, nephew of one of her favorite professors at Magic School really took a liking to his babysitter back in the day.  
  
She reminded, pulling her ponytail into a bun, “I’ll have you know I can be very persuasive.”  
  
In this case, by persuasive, Felicity meant she would’ve wrestled the little twerp to the ground and given him a noogie for it. No matter if he’s got a familial connection to three of the most powerful witches in the magical world. So do Oliver and Felicity. As a replacement for her sword, Felicity opted for her bubbe’s dagger instead. Oliver’s eyes flitted to his wife, challenging her playfully.  
  
The expression on her face cunningly read:  
  
“Don’t even think about it Queen.” Felicity then cast aloud, “ _Natsar_ (Protect)”  
  
A translucent pale pink light emanated from her wedding ring, forming a shield between her and Oliver. Another element that came along with marriage.  
  
Huffing out a laugh, he says tenderly, “Love you too, Honey. But you don’t have to do that. It’s fine.”  
  
She pointed out as if it was obvious, “Knife throwing practice? Of course, I do.”  
  
Raising his hands in defeat, her husband mentioned, “Okay, okay. I sharpened the blade yesterday, so it should be evenly balanced for you.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“You never, ever have to thank me, Felicity.”  
  
Felicity exhaled a deep breath in preparation. Her azure eyes stared the wooden target down as if was their next adversary. She gripped the dagger firmly, feeling her family crest an S engraved in Torah Sofer font against her skin. Felicity planted her feet, giving herself a steady base. She lined the blade to the target, yet out of the corner of her eye, something or rather someone else caught her attention. Oliver was merely mediated. An  orb of blue light whimsically danced around his sweaty bare torso as he levitated above ground, sitting cross-legged.  
  
“Oliver?”  
  
Nothing his eyes were closed. He was so relaxed it would’ve appeared as if her husband was sleeping peacefully.  
  
Felicity tried again, using her loud voice, “Honey?”  
  
Still, nothing. Alright, she needed to find another approach.  
  
“Paqach (Open).” She said with a lazy wave of her hand, and the literal shield was lower. Her bare feet padded the floor. Felicity cloaked the dagger in its leather case, tucking it away in the usual glass barrier before she stood in front of her husband.  
  
“Oliver?” She requested against, hand skimming his hairy calf before it ascended towards the hem of his khaki shorts.  
  
That move spooked him like a unicorn. The single horned creatures were vastly more sensitive and timid creatures than average horses. However, the do come from the same family in the animal kingdom. He emitted a short yell. Orbs of light burst away from his body as he fell right on his ass.  
  
“Ow!” He groaned pitifully, rubbing his back once he got back on his feet. “Would it kill you to give me a bit of a warning next time, Felicity?”  
  
His wife countered, flicking the back of his head, “Would it kill you to pay attention next time, Oliver? I called you twice.”  
  
“Sorry,” Her husband apologized, pressing a much too short and chaste kiss against her bare lips. “What do you need?”  
  
Even Dig, who was in his feline form, wasn’t aware of the dark red light that surround Felicity’s figure as well as Oliver’s. The only demonic being with such knowledge was Jacob. He along with his other three siblings, offspring to Trigon and Arella, were four of the seven deadly sins personified into a living breathing entity. They would use these skills against their opponents and easily win the battle. Jesse and Jared represented envy and wrath, whereas Raven symbolizes pride. But in particular, Jason was pure lust. He could infect whoever he choose with a single touch.  
  
It was all a part of the plan. Rather than do the work himself, Oliver and Felicity would be too wrapped in each other to stop an attempt at Trigon from entering the mortal realm on this Earth. His face scrunched in bewilderment as Felicity’s mouth suddenly ticked up in a seductive little smile.  
  
“You,” His wife whispered sexily, ensnaring his bottom lip with hers. “Lover.”  
  
Felicity adamantly detested the word lover. Oliver knew that because he understood his wife better than anyone. Something had to be up, although as she kissed him harshly against the mouth, his guard dropped. t wasn’t that he didn’t care. Oliver wanted to work on figuring it out later. That was all.  A red light surrounded him as him, igniting their passion. However, his stomach rumbled in opposition.  
  
“Uh…” Oliver huffed out a laugh, “I guess I’m a little hungry.”  
  
Her fingertip slid down his sweaty torso, taking her time with his scars.  She stopped mere centimeters away from the waistband of his shorts.  
  
Standing on her tip toes, Felicity coaxed, “Me too.”  
  
By the way, she was nibbling on his ever so sensitive earlobe and laving at the those same spots she nipped at with her tongue, Felicity sure as Hell wasn’t talking about food. But he actually was.  
  
Um, I’m all sweaty.”  
  
His wife giggled, leaving a trail of wet kisses from his ear, jaw, and mouth, “I know. It’s amazing.”  
  
God, he wanted her. But at the moment, he needed sustenance. Despite every fiber in his being signaling otherwise, Oliver pulled away, much to Felicity’s chagrin.  
  
“Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll find something I can whip us up for lunch?” Her husband suggested, slipping into a black polo.  
  
“Oliver,” She persisted, demanding his attention like a toddler who wanted a new toy.  
  
He mimicked, enunciating every single of his wife’s name, “Felicity.”  
  
“But…” Felicity pouted.  
  
Although, Oliver stood his ground - no matter how alluring she looked in a purple sports bra and black sweatpants.  
  
Directing her towards the stairs, her husband promised. “Shower, now. And I swear I’ll make it you to later.”  
  
“You’d better, mister, or I might just make you wait for it.” His wife tipped her hand, leaving him with a sneaky pat on his firm rear end.  
  
“See, stomach?” He accused, talking to his abdomen, “Do you see what you’ve done?”  
  
As if in response, his stomach growled again in protest.  
  
No, Felicity did not take matters into her own hands when she jumped in the shower, although the hot water was relaxed. She finished blow drying her hair and putting her cartilage piercing back its place before she slipped in a special frock and a high heeled pair of boots for once. The dining room wafted with the scents of juicy steak paired with a couple nice egg white omelets.  
  
Closing her husband’s mouth left agape by the sight of her, she teased, “Calm down, boy. I thought you wanted to get some food in yourself first.”  
  
Felicity petted Dig, who currently wanted to get as far away from the Queens as possible. He scampered off to his cat post, glaring at the two of them with his piercing yellow eyes as if to show his true disgust. Dig would’ve coughed a hairball, if he had any left in him. Felicity squeezed a dash of tabasco on her eggs, which made Oliver feel albeit a little insulted. They ate in a comfortable silence, or so Felicity thought.  
  
Oliver’s eyes soaked in all the little nooks and crannies of his sexy wife, and that goddamned black dress with the cutouts was positively bewitching. It drew him like a satyr to a nymph. Her raven locks were tied back into a ponytail, revealing the expanse of her decolletage - an area he couldn’t wait to taste. The cotton fabric of her frock hugged her curves perfectly, exposing just the right amount of skin. God, what he would give to have those boots over his broad shoulders right now. Feeling an immense of sexual tension fuel their veins, they scarfed down their food. Any semblance of proper manners was thrown out the window.  
  
Forks and knives clinked against their plates. After a long beat, Oliver and Felicity rise up from their seats. They immediately closed the short distance between them. Felicity abruptly leaped into her husband’s strong arms, wrapping her long legs around his cut torso. Their mouths collided in frenzy that was damn near electric, breathing in the same air. Her hands grip his neck, partially tugging at the spiky strands of his buzz cut. There were times when Felicity wanted more of his hair to grab onto, but this wasn’t them. Teeth gnashed against each other before Felicity stroked her tongue into his mouth. They engaged in a battle for dominance until Oliver craved to feel simply more, more skin, more Felicity, and more everything.  
  
“Hold onto me tight,” Her husband instructed, orbing them them straight up to the bedroom. They almost tripped over Dig, who had to decided to retreat upstairs after exercise drills on his cat post.  
  
He meowed in extreme annoyance. “Dig, I’m sorry, man.”  
  
John glowered at the couple, giving them some much needed privacy.  
  
Felicity giggled, panting slightly, “That may be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me in our entire marriage. Not about Dig. Holding onto you.”  
  
“Just you wait, Felicity.”  
  
Felicity’s fast fingers opened the buttons his black polo shirt, making a whiny noise when he pulled away. But it was only because he wanted to yank his shirt. Staring at each other, their eyes never disconnected. Even as Oliver's shirt unceremoniously hit the floor. He knelt on the mattress, desiring to kiss his wife again. After all, how could he not? Felicity, however, had other plans, gesturing that he crawl back towards the center of the bed. When Oliver’s head rest against the pillows, he sat back on his haunches, gathering Felicity in his arms. She mounted him, hovering over the perfect spot - his increasingly hard erection. He unzipped her dress, toying with her cartilage piercing. She moaned at the feel of his talented tongue laving at her delicate skin, and they were only seconds from getting started. Oliver ripped opened her dress, wanting to move this along as fast as possible.  
  
“Oh, God.” Felicity moaned, voice glazed in half-pleasure and half-complaint, “Oliver.”  
  
“Fuck, Felicity. I’ll get you another one for Valentine’s Day. I need you right now.”  
  
“You have me, all of me.”  
  
Felicity lifted her hips, and Oliver took initiative by pulling off her the rest of her ruined dress with three strong tugs. Only scraps of fabric separated them from complete and utter euphoria. Their hips hips ground against each other in hard thrusts, causing Felicity to bounce in his lap slightly. She anchored herself with a firm grip to his shoulders, rubbing herself against him until him. A harsh hand came down her ass. Felicity yelped in surprise from the sting, though she didn’t seem to mind as it solely served to increase her pleasure. There was just something different about this time. This wasn’t lovemaking, though they always loved each other - no matter how they did it This wasn’t a quick fuck because they wanted to take their time. This was passionate, heated, and almost feral. Neither Oliver nor Felicity could put their fingers on why that was. And they certainly didn’t question it. All they wanted was each other right now.  
  
His hand massaged the sting before his lips found that special spot - the pulse point on her neck. Silently, Oliver apologized for his rash behavior, although by the sounds she made Felicity didn’t need an “I’m sorry, Baby.” She just needed him. Tearing the lacy cotton fabric blend, Oliver ripped off her panties similar to the way he did her dress. His nails dug playfully into her creamy soft thighs - not to hurt But just enough to Felicity a feel. His breath ghosted over her lips, eyes locked on each other. When his calloused fingers slipped over her wet heat, Felicity’s eyes dared to close. He teased her with feather light touches.  
  
Oliver whispered her name like a litany fell from his lips, “Felicity?”  
  
“Yes.” She confirmed, nodding her head vehemently for emphasis.  
  
His thrust two digits in, loving how slick and warm she felt around his fingers. He paused for a brief moment, and their lips quickly reconvened, letting her adjust to the feel of him inside her. Light from the setting sun poured in from the window, accentuated the way the moved together. Initially, their movements were slow and gentle. Felicity nearly rode out her pleasure against his fingers until a twinge of pain shot up her back. And she was almost there dammit. Oliver grabbed her hips, ceasing her ministrations. Felicity’s lips pursed in question. He pulled out hastily, a disgruntled whimper slipping past her lips. Oliver rubbed soothing circles over that sore band of muscles on her back before flipping Felicity over like a pancake. She laid against a sea of pillows, easing the strain of her overused muscles, His stubble rasped at his skin, sure to leave a trail of pink pricks of beard burn by morning. He kissed her torso, nipping at the tops of her breasts before he settled on her pelvis. Oliver left a lingering smooth, his mitigated blue eyes flickering up to hers.  
  
Felicity pleaded, her voice husky and laden with pure want, “Oliver, please.”  
  
“I’ve got you, Baby.” He assured, love and lust saturating his tone all at once, “I promise.”  
  
His tongue darted out to taste her essence, sparking pleasure he’d seen so many times before. Despite the burn in her muscles, she thrust up towards his mouth. But Oliver simply nailed her hips down to the bed with his hands. Felicity threw a leg over his shoulder, making a blatant display of where she really wanted. He lifted her other leg onto his shoulder.Oliver licks her wet sex reverently, enjoying the noises she makes. He wants more, and needs to it be louder. He mouth envelops her wet cleft, sucking on a stiffening little pearl. Felicity’s head fell back, craning her neck up.  
  
“Oh, Fuck!” His wife keened, urging, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”  
  
He didn’t, never relenting in his ministrations, regardless of the tension his jaw. It wasn’t until he stroked two fingers in while simultaneously sucking on her clit  A blush slowly crept on her pale skin. Felicity’s body heat temperature rose as she panted unevenly. He sucked harder, and that was the moment sweet relief washed over her.  
  
“Oh, Oliver.” Something she rarely ever said the bedroom escaped her lips, “Fuck me!”  
  
Remnants of her pleasure coated parts of his nose and chin when Oliver released her with a wet pop.  
  
“You really don’t mean…?”  
  
Cutting him off, Felicity acknowledged, “I really did.”  
  
“Felicity, are you sure…?”  
  
Gaining more confidence, she proclaimed, “I want you to fuck me. I need it hard and fast. I want to feel you deep inside of me.... Oliver, I need you.”  
  
Most of his weight rested on his forearms. Oliver pecked her lips gently. Felicity could taste her essence on his lips, mouth, and tongue. It was oddly, rich, tangy, and a move that was pure them.  
  
His dick brushed against the goddamned mattress, and those palpable noises she made drove him absolutely insane. Before they get down the main event, Felicity insisted her remove her boots. They were sexy as Hell thrown over his shoulders but when her toes curled in the midst of her orgasm. It felt like her circulation was all out of whack. Oliver unzipped her boots, pulling them off gently. They thud heavily against the floor, waking Dig downstairs, which was clearly evident by his angry meow and hiss.  
  
Oliver utterly tenderly, cutely smooching the tip of her nose, “I love you so damn much, Felicity.”  
  
“I love you too, Oliver."  
  
Oliver stroked in slowly, filling her completely to the hilt. Her walls pulsed around him, adjusting to him being deep-seated inside of her. Their hips were pressed flush against each other. Breathing slowly, they engaged in a kiss which later changed in tenor and tone. Kisses mingled with sounds of growling, nipping, and ministrations of tangled tongues. Oliver drove into Felicity, practically shoving her up the bed as he pounded into her. She met with harsh little thrusts of her own, craving the mixture of pain and pleasure. Their lips mere centimeters apart from each other, but not touching. Puffs of air ghosted over one another’s faces. The mattress squeaked and creaked under their vigorous combined movements. Skin slapped skin. Felicity’s heels dug into his butt cheeks, egging him on even more. Her legs were the perfect cradle. God, the way her walls quivered around. They were both right on the precipice of shared release, Felicity’s nails raked over his scarred back, surely leaving marks of her own as time gone on. Pleasure swamped his body, pushing up on his toes to slightly change the angle of his thrusts.  
  
“ _Felicity, fuck_.” He groaned, reaching between their bodies to rub at her clit once more. He had to get her there first, “Baby, I can’t….”  
  
“Yes!” She cried out, muffling her scream into his shoulder blade when she nipped it. “Yes, yes… _Oh, Oliver_!”  
  
Her released triggered his. Wetness coated his member. Her walls rapidly quivered around, squeezing Oliver amazingly. He spilled into her in long, hot spurts of cum. A garbled version of her name sneaked past his lips. He collapsed against her, feeling completely drained. Their torsos stuck together with sweat, making the cool breeze seem twice as nice.Felicity’s hand carded through his dampened locks. He purred in response, his eyes fall shut. Although Oliver had to move eventually otherwise he would crush Felicity under his heavy. They rested a few, gaining a few moments’ respite before they made love again. They time was certainly gentler, softer, and slow. Though anytime they have sex, love and passion are always a present. It was a mortal lock and magic lock of sorts. They were amazed because they ravaged each other as if they were two randy stray cats. These multiple romps in bed were akin to their honeymoon in Bali, and it was a long while before they moved off of each other.  
  
“God,” Oliver huffed out a laugh, brushing back a curtain of his wife’s messy locks, “I don’t what’s gotten into us.”  
  
Felicity mused, shrugged, “Hell, if I know, but I have to say I kind of like it.”  
  
“Any more tries, and I think my soldier will be out of officially commission soon.”  
  
She tacked on, believing, “Any more romance, and I’ll be sore for an entire week.”  
  
“Okay, we definitely need to stop, but maybe Peeping Tommy can tell us what’s going on?”  
  
Felicity’s gasped, hiding under the blanket. She swatted Oliver’s arm, asking, “You think he sneaked a peek?”  
  
“It’s Tommy.”  
  
Bells from Heavens jingled in answer to that.  
  
Amusement cross Oliver’s face, understanding his suspicions were indeed confirmed, “Yep. He definitely did.”  
  
“Hope you enjoyed the show, you fucker.” Felicity berated playfully, sending a middle to the ceiling.  
  
Bells from Heavens jingled in answer once more, subsequently right after the first ones.  
  
“Jerk.” Felicity teased  
  
Oliver added, shaking his head in amusement, “You, Jackass, you.”  
  
Dig had to paw at the door in order to garner their attention. Normally, he could’ve had transformed from cat to human. But he had to get them up somehow.

Something big was going. Tommy and Dig could sense it immediately. In the cult church of Blood, a demon who towered over a twenty-four story build broke through the depths of Hell. His six eyes burned in the same fiery orange glow as Jacob.  
  
“Welcome, Father.” Jacob greeted, bowing respectfully.


	5. Sacrifices

Trigon was an all-powerful creature who greatly towered over Star City’s highest skyscraper. His red skin housed a rock hard wall of thick muscle. It was any wonder how Constantine and Zatanna kept him imprisoned in the depths of Hell under Azarath for as long as they did. Finally, he was free and ready to conquer this planet simply because he could.  
  
Reverend Blood followed suit, “Master.”  
  
Smirking diabolically, Trigon commanded, “Silence infidels!”  
  
A siege of pure dark energy poured in like the red sea itself, murdering everyone in its wake. Even Trigon’s very own son, Jacob. He bared his razor sharp teeth, finding pleasure in his first small victory. Jacob wasn’t the goal. Blood and his tiny peons were no longer of any use to him. No, his next conquest was far more powerful than his failure of a weak son. His plan not only demanded great power, it needed trickery. Trigon’s monstrous figure transformed into that of a normal man.  
  
“Sathar (Conceal)” He cast, masquerading as a familiar figure, Arthur - the purely mortal man who lured Arella into his clutches time and time again.  
  
Cringing at his now perfect tawny skin, this body made him livid.  
  
Although, Trigon (Arthur) surmised, “Ugh, this is hunk of human flesh will suffice for now. I suppose.”  
  
Tommy and the Elders could immediately sense Trigon’s presence here on Earth. It felt as if a Heaven had an earthquake of sorts. There were only a few known witches, wizards, and other magical beings who could manage to reign the God of demons. Before Tommy orbed down to Oliver and Felicity  
  
“Be careful, my son.” An Elder by the name of Sam heeded.  
  
With a reverent nod, he promised, “I will.”  
  
Sky blue light contrasted through the blanket of the Queens’ bedroom blanketed in the pitch blackness of night.  
  
“Ah! Felicity shouted while Oliver’s body blanketed hers, “Oliver stop!”  
  
Her husband growled, “Tommy, what the fuck are you doing here, man?”  
  
“Unbelievable.” He complained incredulously, palming his face, “You two are still at it?”  
  
In all the years, he had known Oliver and Felicity. He understood the couple was rather lovey-dovey, but this was a whole other level of crazy. Something had to have gone awry. Whitelighters were very in tune with their charges. This was just the Queens being ravenously horny. It was as if something, a curse infected the very aura of their souls.  
  
“Hey, maniak (asshole)” Felicity berated, gesturing for their friend to leave, “How ‘bout a little privacy over here?”  
  
Tommy objected vehemently, “No.”  
  
“What do you mean, no? C’mon, bro. Do me a solid.” Oliver requested, grinning lasciviously at his wife.  
  
Tommy flickered on the lights, causing Oliver and Felicity’s eyes to clamp shut tightly in annoyance.  
  
“Clothes,” Tommy summoned, flinging the their outerwear towards the couple. Before they could protest, “Get dressed. C’mon, let’s go.”  
  
“Dude.” Felicity hoped, “Can’t you just leave now, so Oliver and I can finish what we started?”  
  
“No. N.O means no, Felicity. Don’t make me orb you both out of here buck ass nude. ‘Cause I’ll do it if I have to.” Their whitelighter threatened, checking his watch. “C’mon we have to get you two somewhere safe.”  
  
Well, that certainly caught Oliver’s attention.  
  
“Why?” He finally asked.  
  
“Blood actually managed to free Trigon.”  
  
“Oh, well…” Felicity noted, slipping on a gray tank top, “That would’ve been a good thing to lead off with, tipesh (stupid).”  
  
Tommy ushered with a loud resounding clap of his hands, “Let’s get a move on. C’mon. Let’s go.”  
  
“We’re going. We’re going.” Oliver assured, zipping up his League armor.  
  
The Queens were barely half-dressed before they got to their feet. This hex or whatever spell was drawing them towards each other like flies to a bug zapper.  
   
Gripping their shoulders, Tommy promised, “That’s so not happening mid-orb. Keep your paws off each other, you crazy kids.” Closing his eyes, he sensed, “Zatanna.”  
  
Tommy orbed the couple to London straight into Constantine and Zatanna’s bedroom, where he laid looking like literal Hell, beat up after attempting to stop Trigon.  
  
Gasping in horror, Felicity inquired, “Zatanna, what happened?”  
  
“I was the one who released Trigon in exchange for John’s life.” She admitted tearfully.  
  
Oliver vowed, squeezing his friend’s shoulder, “We’re going to stop that son of a bitch.”  
  
“Oliver, Felicity? Are you two okay?”  
  
Tommy acknowledged, questioning, “Something’s going on with them, Z. Can you fix them and fast? We need all the help we get.”  
  
“Yeah.” She replied, touching their hearts. Similar to X-ray vision, Zatanna was soon made aware that both Oliver and Felicity auras glowed in a deep red, although it certainly wasn’t anger. “Looks like Jacob’s handy work.”  
  
“Jacob?” Felicity repeated, nude lips pursing in confusion, “The weird little boy we ran into at the market?”  
  
Zatanna informed, “That little boy happens to be the son of Trigon. He takes on different forms, but no matter the being, his powers were once quite strong. Jacob epitomizes lust itself, using that deadly sin against his victims.”  
  
“Okay. Now that we know what’s wrong with them, what do we do about it?”  
  
“Hand me the elixir in that brown bottle.” Zatanna ordered, looking to Tommy.  
  
He hastily jogged over to what appeared to be a china cabinet, “This one?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
Clear liquid sloshed into two small viles.  Directing her friends, she instructed, “Drink it.”  
  
“Okay.” Oliver and Felicity obliged simultaneously, pouring what tasted like sweat from putrid dirty gym socks down their throats,  
  
Oliver’s face crumpled in disgust, “Gross.”  
  
“Nasty.” Felicity echoed, expression mirroring her husband’s.  
  
Constantine huffed a pained laugh, “My beloved’s not done yet, you wankers.”  
  
“Nope.” She confirmed, popping the p. Her hands folded, eyes drifting closed as well. A brilliantly lit white pentagram appeared under her black ankle boots. John silently motioned for the couple to join hands. They did so, burrowing their finger together until they found the right fit.  
  
Reciting a spell, Zatanna began:  
  
“ _Dipuc, raeh ym saelp (Cupid, hear my pleas.)_  
_Ekat tahw sah neeb nevig ot eseht (Take what has been given to these.)_  
_Evael siht ecaps, Evael siht mlaer (Leave this space, Leave this realm)_  
_Thgil dna evol nruter ot meht (Light and love return to them)_ ”  
  
The red darkness plaguing their souls - albeit fun - was changed for the better. Their auras turned respectively white and green, indicating the couple’s true peace and happiness.  
  
“Please tell me you both no longer feel the need to fuck.” Tommy persisted, rather crudely.  
  
“We’re good.”  
  
“Yeah. We’re fine, so what’s the game plan?”  
  
Zantanna asked, “Do you two know nothing of your of your families’ histories?”  
  
The Queens both bashfully looked down at their respective leather boots.  
  
“Oliver, Felicity. Your three times great-grandmothers are the first ones who imprisoned Trigon. Tommy interjected, filling in the blanks for them.  
  
Their friend continued, “Which means, according to your birthrights, you two are the only ones powerful enough to stop him.”

* * *

_**Two Centuries Ago** _

Melinda Dearden and Splendora Spisak, Oliver and Felicity’s three times great-grandmothers were facing Trigon head-to-head. With a raise of his hand, Trigon threw Splendora like a ragdoll against Melinda.  
  
Their legs felt like mud, barely able to stand.  
  
Splendora panted, her tone insistent, “Melinda, we have to.”  
  
“We cannot do such a thing, Splendora. You will surely meet your demise.”  
  
Her lips tilted in a feigned smile, she rationalized, “‘Tis the only way, my dear friend.”  
“Okay,” Melinda agreed, despite every fiber in her bones shouting otherwise.  
  
Trigon laughed, “No one can stop me, foolish witches.”  
  
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” A stranger appeared out of nowhere, following a dark shadowy shimmer.  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
In answer to Splendora’s surprise, Trigon responded, “Amadeus.”  
  
“Splendora, say whatever spell you have planned, but it is imperative that you shall use it on me.”  
  
“It will result in imminent death, dear boy. I do not even know who you are.”  
  
Uncloaking himself, Amadeus revealed his body. His nude grayish skin burned in a seething red prophecy of Azarath.  
  
“On your planet, he is what you would call my uncle. It is my destiny to die. For death, only signifies the trust essence of heroism.”  
  
Melinda attempted, “Young man, we simply cannot…”  
  
“You must,” He persisted.  
  
Bound by shackles, Trigon shouted languidly, “Nooo!”  
  
Power whirred in his massive hand as Trigon garnered pure energy from the fires of Hell.  
  
“Say the spell.” Amadeus urged, “Now. You two are destined for far greater things.”  
  
Joining hands, the women recited:  
  
“ _Benviolio solis departe (Good soul depart)_  
_Mofr thou epiderum te a tser entermareom (From your flesh to rest forevermore)_  
_Morsformete en a luminous (Transform into the light)_  
_San victorium llahs a lacham (So we shall win the fight)”_  
  
Surprisingly, the spell did not work right away. Amadeus hands formed into the sign of the cross as he uttered, “ _Azarath Metrion Zinthos._ ”  
  
Amadeus physical body morphed into a pure blast of white light, flying up to Trigon. He nailed his uncle in the heart. Unfortunately, Trigon did not meet the Grim Reaper, although he was wounded severely. From there, Splendora and Melinda were able to imprison Trigon a chamber of his own maker - The Heart of Darkness, a constant feast for the reaper prison guards who devoured his evil as years went by. However, as times changed, so did Trigon, he found ways to wreak havoc on multiple realms.

* * *

  
**Present Day**  
  
Upon the reveal of their family history, Oliver healed Constantine, not knowing what else to do in this very moment.  
  
Constantine shook Oliver’s hand in appreciation.  
  
“Thanks, mate.”  
  
Joining Oliver by his side, for once in her life, Felicity appeared quite perplexed, “So how are we supposed to defeat Trigon without an Amadeus by our side?”  
  
Before Constantine could reply, a man with garbled whispers pleaded, “Hello, can somebody help me?”  
  
“Rory?” Constantine recognized.  
  
Felicity remembered, “Your protege? The you man in rags?”  
  
Indeed a young man in magical rags bound the stairs, appearing panicked. There was someone in his arms.  
  
“Who’s this?” Zatanna inquired, seemingly quite suspicious of the girl already.  
  
Rory answered, “I didn’t know where else to go. This is my friend, Raven, and she really needs your help.”  
  
It was as if their prayers were answered. Timing was more like bashert (fate). Clearly this mysterious girl was a descendant of Amadeus. She had the same grayish skin and purple hair, though she appeared to be a deep trouble. Her body burned in seething red tribal symbols, continuing the prophecy of her Azarath birthright.  
  
“Oliver, Honey, can you heal Raven?”  
  
“I can try.” Oliver replied. “But I never healed an alien before.”  
  
Oliver’s hand hovered over the weak girl, yet nothing became of it.  
  
“Why isn’t it working?” Rory wondered, brushing back a curtain of his friend’s purple hair..  
  
Oliver said, trying once more, “I-I don’t know.”  
  
“You can’t help her because Raven has the blood of Trigon running through her veins I can feel it. We absolutely cannot trust her.”  
  
“We have to,” Felicity argued, noting, “She may be our only hope.”  
  
Constantine vouched, “If Rory trusts her, so do I.”  
  
“She’s good.” Rory swore, pointing out, “She’s been helping me and the Titans.”  
  
Better known as the teen Titans - a group of adolescent former sidekicks, who were now heroes in their own rights sent to protect Jump City. They weren’t exactly magical. Well, with the exceptions of Rory and Raven. But their skills had far surpassed that of an average human.  
  
Moaning, Raven requested, “Please.”  
  
A jolt rippled through her body, screaming in agony, “He’s coming!”  
  
The arrival of Raven was practically a God sent gift. Unfortunately, sharing the same DNA meant Trigon could track his daughter like a bloodhound to a rabbit. A rumble shook the foundation of Constantine and Zatanna’s London townhouse.  
  
“Fulfill the prophecy, young one.” Trigon beckoned after literally ripping the roof off the place.  
  
Trigon’s six fiery eyes laser a trail, separating Raven from her newfound allies.  
  
Rory’s voice trembled along with her nerves, “Raven, no!”  
  
“Oliver, do something, you twit.” Constantine insisted, promising “I’ll hold them off.”  
  
Zatanna corrected, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand as they prepared to die, “We’ll hold ‘em off.”  
  
He snapped, doing a parkour jump and roll to Raven, “Oh, because that worked so well the first time. I’m getting us all out of here. Tommy, you ready?”  
  
Tommy nodded dutifully, and together he and Oliver orbed the heroic group to Titans Tower, or rather what was left of it. The T-shaped building was in shambles after Trigon’s first attempt of using his daughter as a mere pawn from the war he was waging on this very realm.  
  
“Trigon really did a number on this place.” Felicity observed, eyes combing through the dull light and cracks on the wall.  
  
Zatanna noted, “At the very least you still have auxiliary power.”  
  
Getting straight to the pont, Oliver questioned, “Because being his daughter, why is Trigon’s sole purpose to go after Raven?”  
  
“Raven is the only one who can help Trigon create a portal from his worlds to opens. Once it emerges from her body, she loses her life, and I can’t risk that.”  
  
“Anything for a friend, mate. Huh?” His mentor concurred, slapping him on the back, “I have taught you well.”  
  
Felicity’s azure eyes narrowed at a necklace Rory was wearing, surmising, “She’s more than just a friend. Isn’t that true, Rory.”  
  
“I love her.” The young man confesses, revealing a small vile of his partner’s blood -  a similar ritual Oliver and Felicity during their betrothal. “After she and Garfield split up, we both turned to a friend for comfort, and I-I can’t lose her. I won’t.”  
  
Tommy could sense evil far greater than anyone else ever could, which  was unfortunately due in part to his father.  
  
“As much as I hate to break up the mushy stuff, we have to do something because Devilish Demonic Daddy’s on his way.”  
  
Oliver summoned, “Crystals,” which set up a white shield around the entire tower.  
  
With a wave of her hand, Felicity beckoned over to Rory, “Come, say the protection spell with me. Honey?”  
  
Her husband orbed nine lit candles - 3 White, 3 black 2 red, and 1 green one. Tommy added an athame just in case, wand, chalice filled with deep red wine, and a bowl with an assortment filled with healing herbs. Oliver then joined them in circle, each cutting a small sliver of skin from their thumbs as a sacrificial offering. Their fingers rooted around in the healing herbs before saying the spell.  
  
The trio began to chant, joining hands:

  
“ _Auger De Gomay, Auger De Gomay_  
_Ancient One of the Earth so Deep_  
_Master of Moon and Sun_  
_I shield you in our Wiccan Way_  
_Here in my circle round_  
_Asking you, Protect this space_  
_And offer your Sun.._..”  
  
“Don’t.” A tiny voice rasped, “It’s no use.”  
  
Rory declared adamantly. “We have to try, Rae.”  
  
“It’s not your fight, my love.” Raven insisted, breathing heavily as she used all the strength she could muster, “It’s mine, and I will stop him - no matter what it takes.”  
  
“Shanah, Ahuvati. (Sleep, my love).” Her boyfriend whispered tenderly, planting a soft kiss on her sweaty forehead, “You need to rest in order to recover.”  
  
Despite Tommy sensing Trigon’s presence, he didn’t make his move. Perhaps, Raven was of no use to him in her weakened state or it was more than likely Trigon waited for a better time to strike when they least expected. Hours passed as if the annoying ticking clock was any indication. Night fell over Jump City. In the meantime, Oliver and Felicity briefly returned to Queen Manor - only to exhume a tattered, brown, ancient text. Thankfully, the Spisak and Smoak clans were scribes of sorts. They found a vanquishing spell for Trigon, and now the couple could only hope not to use Raven as a sacrifice. Guilt and anguish was already eating away at Rory, who remained at his girlfriend’s bedside like a sad black Labrador. He held her hand tightly, head resting in her lap. Granted, he didn’t need much sleep due to magic rags, but tiredness was pulling at his bones. Closing his eyes for a mere second, the red tribal like markings burned in Raven’s grayish skin pulsed like a beating heart.  
  
Light burned brighter, coursing through Raven’s veins as she levitated from the safety of her bed in the med bay. Although, it certainly wasn’t of her own doing.  
  
A garbled, pain warning of “Father is here” croaked out of Raven’s mouth.  
  
“Rae, sweetie.” Rory urged, desperately attempting to tether him to him, “Hold up!”  
  
“I can’t. I-I can’t.” She whimpered, physical pain wracking her entire being as Trigon nearly broke her back, “You have to let me go.”  
  
Tears gleaming in Rory’s chocolate brown eyes, he shook his head, “Never.”  
  
“Rory.” Oliver promised, yanking his friend back on the ground, “Let her go. We have a plan.”  
He grunted angrily, “It’d better be a good one, Queen.”  
  
“It is.” Felicity assured, motioning over to Tommy as the long glass and wood shattered from the tower, “Tommy, time to bring in the calvary.”  
  
A menacing laugh rumbled from Trigon’s body, causing the ground to quake intensely beneath them.  
  
“Stupid creatures, no one has ever been able to defeat me. Have you learned nothing?”  
  
Oliver warned, “Oh, we learned a lot about you.”  
  
With her feet planted in the ground, Felicity gathered her energy effectively freezing Raven in mid-air. The group kept him busy with attacks from magic rags, fireballs, lightning bolts, and flaming throwing knives. But those weak attempts merely tickled. His laser eyes whirred, summoning his power from Hell.  
  
“Natsar! (Protect)” The Queens shouted, shielding Rory in a translucent pink light.  
  
Breathing a whispery sigh of relief through his magic rags, Rory said, “Thank you.”  
  
“Mmm… Don’t thank us quite yet, kid.” Felicity insisted in an uneasy tone.  
  
Growing bored, Trigon summoned his red sea of destruction with a simple wave of his hand.  
  
“No.” Raven persisted weakly once Felicity’s power to freeze time wore off, “Take me - not them. They’re innocent.”  
  
Trigon bared his canine-like teeth before obliging, “Very well, daughter dearest.”  
  
“Tommy, anytime now!” Oliver yelled to the heavens.  
  
Hearing his cue, Tommy orbed with some familiar faces - Dig, Thea, and even Nyssa.  
  
“Hey, Buddy.” Tommy greeted, smirking since he figured they’d now gained the upper hand, “Always just one orb away.”  
  
Felicity mused, “Better late than never, Merlyn.”  
  
“I hate to break up this reunion, loves.” Constantine announced, urging, “But say the goddamn spell before we all die!”  
  
“On who?” They asked in unison.  
Rory growled, “You are not using it on my beloved.”  
  
“You need someone pure of heart.” Dig informed.  
  
Thea volunteered, “Ollie, Felicity. You have to use it on me.”  
  
“No.” Oliver swore.  
  
“Ollie in our family we both know that I..”  
  
Looking to her husband, Felicity agreed, “We can’t Thea.”  
  
“You guys!” Thea implored, gripping their shoulders, “We have to do something, anything.”  
  
Pushing Thea aside, Nyssa declared, voice laden with shame, “Use me. It is the only way to repent for my father’s sins.”  
  
Felicity informed, “But you’ll die.”  
  
“Then one can only hope I shall not suffer a fate worse than my mother Lourdes. She sacrificed everything, so that one day I can find a way out of my father’s underworld.”  
  
“Guys, you have to hurry, big ugly’s on the move.”  
  
Oliver and Felicity recited just as their three times great-grandmothers did centuries ago, joining hands:  
  
_“Benviolio solis departe (Good soul depart)_  
_Mofr thou epiderum te a tser entermareom (From your flesh to rest forevermore)_  
_Morsformete en a luminous (Transform into the light)_  
_San victorium llahs a lacham (So we shall win the fight)”_  
  
Regardless of all the prophecies, their plan worked. Nyssa transformed into light just as Raven’s ancestor Amadeus, uttering the spell, “ _Azarath Metrion Zinthos._ ”  
  
As Nyssa nearly whispered “Zinthos” Oliver and Felicity threw quite the powerful potion they concocted with herb, candle wax, honey, dandelion root, Felicity’s sweat, and a drop of an essence from Oliver’s healing power. The golden vile would not only imprison Trigon, but vanquish off the face of any planet or ream.  
  
Trigon cried languidly, “Nooo!”  
  
Yet it was too late for him. Trigon disappeared into a blip of darkness, fading away into Nyssa’s light.  
  
Raven plummeted to the ground, falling straight in Rory’s arms.  
  
“Mmm…” She moaned, eyes fluttering “Is it over?”  
  
“Yes, rayah (darling) it is.” Rory promised in garbled whispered, using his rags like a stretcher, “But they shouldn’t take all the credit. You were so very brave.”  
  
The final battle was over, yet Nyssa’s sacrifice was never forgotten.

* * *

_**Five Years Later**_  
  
“Mama, Mama, Mama!” A four year old with wild blonde curls barreled against Felicity’s legs, “Guess what Daddy and I made?”  
  
Felicity sniffed, noting something warm and fruity, “Smells like ragelach.”  
  
With a thumbs up, she confirmed, “Uh-huh.”  
  
Taking off his oven mitt, Oliver instructed, “Okay, my little cookie monster. Go wash up for shabbat dinner before Uncle Rory and Auntie Raven get here.”  
  
“But…” Their daughter pouted, jutting out her lip, “I wanted a cookie now.”  
  
Her mother disciplined, “Paige Nyssa Queen…”  
  
“Okay, I’ll go.” She relented easily, orbing herself to the bathroom.  
  
The world may be rid of the biggest threats, but the magical world still needed protecting. And when it does, Oliver and Felicity are more than ready, so long as they keep their little girl safe. Hopefully, she will never have to inherit the family business of kicking demon butt.However, as she freezes a vase from falling, who knows maybe Paige might do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
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